


A Life Worth Living

by Gabi2305



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-02
Updated: 2006-08-02
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabi2305/pseuds/Gabi2305
Summary: What if both Trip and Sim had survived the tissue transplantation? Will they get along? A dangerous adventure is awaiting them. Takes place during Similitude.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Enterprise or anyone of her crewmembers and this story was written just for fun and sadly enough not to make any money. Beta for this story was SitaZ who I can't thank enough for her help and efforts.

A white flash of pain stabbed through his head when he opened his eyes. Groaning, he pressed them shut again. Where was he? What had happened to him? He tried to remember, but his mind was blank. His whole body felt sore and stiff and his head was throbbing so much that his eyes began to water. Had the Xindi caught him and tortured him for information?

"Easy, Commander, easy," he heard a familiar and reassuring voice beside him. "I'll give you something for the pain."

He felt the cold touch of a hypospray on his neck and heard the hiss of the medication being released into his bloodstream.

"I adjusted the lights, Commander," Phlox explained. "How do you feel?"

Carefully, Trip opened his eyes again, waiting for the searing pain to come, but the hypospray had already started to work and he could even bear the dimmed lights.

"What happened?" he croaked. His voice sounded odd and his mouth was dry and felt like cardboard.

"You were in a coma for nearly two weeks," Phlox told him. "Do you remember what happened?"

Trying to remember, Trip blinked in confusion.

"There was an accident in Engineering," Phlox prompted.

Accident? Slowly, Trip shook his head. But then some images came to his mind. The warpcore. An explosion. He was blown off the machine. A long fall down. And then – nothing.

Trip heard the doors to sickbay swoosh open and a moment later the curtains around his bed were shoved aside and the captain came in with long strides. "How is he, doc?" he asked.

Phlox was busy running a scanner over Trip. "He's recovering nicely."

Trip looked at Archer and tried to smile. The faint smile vanished, though, when he saw the rigid expression on the captain's face. He didn't seem to be very happy about Trip's recovery. Trip cleared his throat and tried to talk, but all that came out was another groan.

The captain's features softened at the sound. "I'm glad you're back, Trip," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on Trip's shoulder. A series of emotions played across his face, which Trip couldn't interpret.

"Take care of him," Archer told Phlox. "I have to get back to the bridge."

Without another word Archer pushed the curtain back into place and rushed out. Trip watched him leave, puzzled.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes, still thinking about Archer's strange behavior. If he had lain in a coma for such a long time, he would have expected his friend to be glad about his recovery. Perhaps Jon had been very busy, but that didn't explain the unease on his face. Unease. That was it. Archer had clearly been feeling uncomfortable around Trip. The engineer sighed. They had had their share of arguments and misunderstandings but so far Archer had always been glad when Trip recuperated from an injury. Trip resolved to talk to the captain as soon as he felt better.

He heard a movement beside his bed. He pried his eyes open and shrank back in shock. The man standing in front of him was he himself. Trip Tucker. That couldn't be. Was he hallucinating?

"Who are you?" he croaked suspiciously.

"My name is Sim," the man said. "And I am…" he shrugged and smiled sadly, "I'm your clone."

Trip looked up incredulously. "You're what?"

* * *

 

"So it is this easy?" Trip asked, looking at the man who was sitting beside him. "Just create a livin' bein' when it comes in handy?" He shook his head. "I can't believe it." He frowned and then grimaced. "Hey, it's not that I'm not happy that you're here. You saved my life. Did I even thank you?"

"You're welcome." Sim smiled. During the last hour he had told Trip about the events of the last two weeks. He still had to tell him that he was to reach the end of his lifespan in a few days, but he didn't intend to tell him about Archer having forced him to undergo the operation. This was a very private thing between him and the captain. With a grim smile Sim remembered the look on the captain's face when he had recovered, despite the fact that he shouldn't have survived the surgery. While Sim was sure that the captain was glad that he'd made it, he knew that the man was uncomfortable with the situation. The captain hadn't been able to look him in the eye since the operation.

It had been a surprise to Sim himself to wake up once again. For a brief time, he'd even been happy. But it was only a short respite. Although Phlox was very busy working on the enzyme that could guarantee Sim a normal lifespan, Sim was afraid that the doctor's efforts would be too late for him.

He stood up. "We can talk about it later. You have to rest."

Trip sighed. "How come you recovered so much quicker form the surgery than I did?" he asked.

Sim smiled understandingly. "You were in a coma for nearly two weeks. It'll take some time for you to get over that."

Sim didn't tell Trip that Phlox indeed had insisted that he stay in bed at least a day longer, but a day was nearly a third of the rest of Sim's life. He simply didn't want to waste his time.

* * *

 

Trip sighed. He still couldn't believe that there was a man that looked exactly like him. Like a twin. No, Trip corrected himself, Sim wasn't his twin-brother, he was he. A second Trip. He not only had his features, but also, somehow, all of his memories. Sim remembered his parents and his siblings the same way he did, he remembered all the pain he had experienced when Lizzie died, he knew all about Trip's childhood and efforts to become an engineer, he even knew about the most embarrassing moments in his life and about all the stupid things he had done. He might even know about his affection for T'Pol. Trip cringed and grimaced at the thought. But Sim wasn't just a copy. He was an independent human being with his own thoughts and feelings. Trip knew it would be hard to adjust to this new situation in his life, but he was willing to give it a try. He liked Sim. How could you not, he snorted in amusement. But how would the crew feel about having two Trip Tuckers on board? Although the second one had another name, nobody could deny that Sim was just another Trip. It would be a challenge to all of them and suddenly Trip caught himself thinking that he looked forward to working this out. As soon as Phlox would release him from this damned sickbay bed.

"Easy, Commander, easy." Malcolm grabbed Trip's arm to steady his friend as he began to sway and threatened to fall off the bio bed. Trip closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply and evenly, trying to overcome the dizziness that he'd caused in his attempt to sit up. For some moments he tried to fathom whether it was a good thing or not to have two Malcolms at his side. When he looked at his friend again, the two Malcolms merged and after some more blinks Trip could see clearly again.

"What's the matter?" Malcolm asked worriedly.

"Nothin'." Trip rubbed his forehead. "I saw two of you for a second there."

Malcolm smiled lop-sidedly. "I know the feeling," he said.

Trip grimaced. "D'you know where he is?"

"Sim? No idea. In Engineering, maybe."

Trip nodded, sliding off the bed and putting his feet to the ground.

"You're far from fit," Malcolm said, frowning worriedly. "You know that Phlox wanted you to stay in sickbay for at least another day. Perhaps you should follow his advice."

"No way. It's been difficult enough to convince him that I feel good enough to stay in my quarters. By the way, you're the last one to tell me that it'd be better to stay in sickbay."

"But you're still experiencing dizzy spells and I'm sure you've still got a headache."

"So why is it that Phlox released Sim so much earlier than me? He had to undergo surgery as well. Doesn't he have headaches?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Don't forget that you were in a coma for nearly two weeks." He reached out once more to steady Trip's unstable footing.

"Damn," the engineer cursed. "My legs feel like pudding."

"That's why I came here, to give you a hand," Malcolm told him. "I knew you wouldn't listen to Phlox' advice, but I didn't like the idea of you going back to your quarters on your own. Wouldn't want you to add another injury to your collection."

Heavily, Trip leaned against the wall while the turbolift brought them to B-deck. "Tell me about Sim," he said to Malcolm.

Malcolm shrugged. "There's not much to tell."

Trip looked up. "You worked with him. There must be somethin' you could tell me about him."

"What can I tell you? He's like you. He's a brilliant engineer. The way he pulled us out of this magnetic field was simply ingenious. But to be honest it was mostly T'Pol who worked with him during the last days. When he was growing up it were mostly the captain and Hoshi who took care of him. Besides Phlox, of course. I didn't have much to do with him, actually."

Why? Trip wanted to ask. This man is the clone of your best friend and you didn't have much to do with him? Trip tried to catch Malcolm's eye, but the lieutenant looked away.

Trip postponed his question when the lift stopped. He had to concentrate on staying on his feet and he gladly accepted Malcolm's helping hand.

"You are going to lie down at once," the lieutenant told him in a firm voice.

"Think so," Trip agreed. His body ached all over and his head began to throb once more. "But my own bunk is much better than a bio-bed in sickbay. And don't tell me you don't agree with me."

Malcolm just smiled. "You manage?" he asked when they stood in front of the door to Trip's quarters. "I have to go back to the bridge."

"I'll be fine." Trip reassured him, punching in his code. He smiled at Malcolm, but shrank back in surprise when the door swished open.

"What is it, Trip?" Malcolm asked alarmed.

"Nothin'. Everything's okay, Mal." Trip nodded at his friend and entered his quarters. Sim had gotten up from the bed when the door had opened. Trip stood just inside the door, and let it close behind him.

"Sorry," Sim said with an apologetic smile. "I know I have no business bein' here. I didn't know that you were goin' to come back today. I'll leave."

"You don't have to." Trip hesitated for a moment. "Guess we should talk."

Suspiciously, Sim looked at Trip and took a seat while Trip sat down on his bunk, leaning his back against the bulkhead.

"You been stayin' here?" Trip asked.

Sim looked down. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I know they're your quarters, but since you didn't need them while you were in sickbay, I thought it wouldn't harm anyone if I slept here."

"Don't you have your own quarters?"

"I used to sleep in sickbay."

"Sickbay?"

"It's not so bad, if you don't have to stay there because of an injury."

"Maybe you're right." Trip looked around. "Where are your things?"

"What things?" Sim asked, seeming somewhat amused.

"If you lived here, there would be some of your belongings around, but I don't see any." Trip blinked when reality dawned on him. "Don't you have personal things?"

"How could I? I was born…" Sim grimaced and swallowed, "…created here on Enterprise." He frowned. That wasn't that long ago. "I haven't had the time or the opportunity to collect anythin' personal."

"And your clothes, then?"

"I only have this uniform, and another one for changing."

"Not even civvies?"

When Sim shook his head, Trip got up. He searched in his wardrobe, and handed Sim some jeans and a t-shirt.

"Here. I guess it's your size."

"You think so?" Sim asked with an amused smile on his face.

Trip watched Sim disappear into the bathroom. He sighed. It still was difficult for him to adjust to the new situation, but it looked like the rest of the crew couldn't deal with Sim at all. How could it be that no one had even thought of giving Sim some civilian clothes? Why didn't Archer give him own quarters? Did he consider Sim a thing? Sure, it wasn't easy to face one's best friend's clone but Sim had a right to be treated as a human being.

Trip tried to conceal his indignation when Sim came back. It was like looking in a mirror. Trip was sure that without their different uniforms no one on Enterprise would be able to distinguish between them.

"You don't have to go," he offered. "We can put up a cot for you until the cap'n gives you your own quarters."

What was it that crossed Sim's face? Doubt? It was only a short flicker, then Sim smiled again. "We'll see. Thanks a lot for your offer. But you should lie down for a while. You look awful."

Trip forced a smile. "Hey, it's bad enough that Malcolm and Jon keep tellin' me this but I don't think it's necessary to be told so by myself."

During the night, Trip learned something about himself. Although he had always denied it when Jon or Malcolm tried to tease him on away missions, it seemed to be true that he had a slight tendency to snore. At least, Trip couldn't find a reason why he should be different from Sim who lay on the cot, sleeping soundly. It was somewhat disturbing not only to look at himself all the time, but also to recognize his own habits in this man. What else would he find out about himself by simply watching Sim?

He couldn't sleep. He had too much to think about. While he had accepted Sim as a friend, it was still difficult to understand where he came from. The idea that Phlox created him from some sort of alien creature. That Jon had ordered Phlox to do so. By now, Trip could understand Jon's unease when he had visited him in sickbay. The captain had ordered Phlox to create a clone of Trip and now he had to deal with the consequences of his decision. Sim had told Trip that Archer had liked him when he was a child; even let him play with his model space shuttle. Sim had admitted that he had broken it, a fact that caused Trip to laugh. "He should have known that we break things," he said, using the plural as if it were a natural thing to do.

Sim had also told him that all the memories were confusing. Sim remembered Trip's childhood on Earth as well as his own on Enterprise. It was sometimes hard to keep them straight. It was as if Sim had two different streams of memory within him, each one excluding the other. He had never been a child on Earth, although he remembered it like Trip did. Perhaps his memories were even more precise, and in his mind, these memories argued with those he had formed here on Enterprise. Trip sensed that life on Enterprise wasn't easy for Sim. He had preferred to stay with Trip in his quarters instead of going to the messhall for dinner. Trip suspected that the crew acted somewhat awkwardly around Sim and he could understand this as well. He had this awkward feeling every time he looked at this man that was himself. It was a very difficult situation, for all of them.


	2. Chapter 2

It was 6:30 in the morning when Trip woke up, realizing that he had only gotten two hours of sleep. His head was throbbing once again and his joints were aching. Groaning, he turned around and switched on the lights, turning them low so as not to wake Sim. But the cot on the other side of the room was empty. Sim was gone.

Trip raised his eyebrows in surprise. Maybe he had gone to the messhall to have an early cup of coffee. Coffee didn't seem a bad idea to him, either.

Awkwardly, Trip got up and stumbled to the bathroom. A short shower refreshed his mind and eased his headache. Trip eyed himself in the mirror. Actually, he didn't look so bad. He ran his hand over his cheeks, his eyes widening in surprise when a thought crossed his mind. He had been in a coma for two weeks but had only a three days' worth of stubble on his face. So someone had taken care of him, shaved him and probably washed him as well. It was an embarrassing thought but it was reassuring as well that he hadn't been forgotten.

Trip decided to stop pondering, brushed his teeth, shaved and slipped into a fresh uniform. He was still off duty but it was a good feeling of normality to wear his uniform again.

Trip smiled when he left his quarters. After two weeks of infusions his body ached for a good shot of caffeine. For the first time since he had woken up in sickbay he felt really hungry and he looked forward to a hearty breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon wouldn't be a bad thing. Trip felt his mouth water, but then he realized that his feet weren't carrying him to the messhall but directly to Engineering. Trip shrugged. It was okay. Breakfast could wait but he hadn't had a look at his engines for too long. A short detour to Engineering wouldn't matter.

* * *

 

The familiar smell of Engineering and the humming of the engines made Trip feel better in an instant. Gamma shift was still at work, but he could hear the lieutenant in charge report to Hess about an uneventful night. Trip smiled as he listened to them talking, remaining close to the stairs so they wouldn't detect him. Anna took her duties as his substitute very seriously and he was confident that he would find his precious engines in perfect shape. He slipped away and ascended the stairs to the warp core. He was checking the readings when, out of the blue, dizzy spell hit him. He grabbed hold of the core and swallowed. Now he was glad that he hadn't had breakfast yet. He was sure that throwing up over the control panels wouldn't make his captain very happy. When the nausea eventually subsided, Trip lowered himself to the grating, leaning his head against the cool metal of the warp core. He simply couldn't find the energy to get up again and climb down the stairs, so he remained seated and tried to breathe deeply and evenly to regain his strength.

He looked up when he heard someone talking. Two crewmen were working beneath him. Trip didn't intend to listen to their talk but he didn't want to give away his presence either. He felt uncomfortable, though, when he realized that they were talking about him.

"I'm glad that Commander Tucker survived", said a woman whose voice Trip recognized as Ensign Fane's.

"Me too," Ensign Carruthers replied. "Mostly because we don't have to have that clone around all the time."

"It wasn't so bad."

"You think so?"

The woman hesitated. "I admit it is a bit awkward looking at Commander Tucker and knowing that it isn't him. But he is a nice guy and it was pleasant to work with him."

"Yeah, because he looked like our CO but he couldn't order us around."

"You're mean, Kevin," Fane said. Despite her words a faint laugh was evident in her voice.

"Am I? Don't you think he's an abomination? This guy has been made out of a weird alien creature. How could someone treat him like a human being?"

"Please stop talking like this." The amusement in Fane's voice was clearly gone. "He saved our lives when we were stuck in the magnetic field. At least he deserves our respect."

"Respect?" Carruthers snorted derisively. "It was unethical to create him in the first place. And I get plain sick from the friendly way the crew treats him. You might think he was a member of our team."

"Actually he is." Fane sighed. "I know that you have difficulties following orders, Kevin, and I know that you had some issues about that with Commander Tucker in the past. Could it be possible that you have something against Sim because he is too much like Commander Tucker?"

"This has nothing to do with Commander Tucker, Susan," Carruthers answered in a hard tone of voice. "A human being is meant to be born and not to be created. That is blasphemy and no one can expect me to show respect towards the outcome of a morbid experiment. But we don't need to talk about him anyway. He'll be gone very soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard? Because he's _not_ a human being, his lifespan is only 15 days. I think he must have lived it out by now. I'm sure we'll be rid of him by tomorrow."

Suddenly a hard voice spoke up, making even Trip flinch. "Don't you have anything to do?" That was Lieutenant Hess, who seemed to be very angry. "Fane, there's a broken EPS relay on C-Deck and Carruthers, I think the warp coils need cleaning."

"Yes, Ma'am," Fane whispered. Carruthers tried to argue with Hess, but then Trip could see him walk away, his head raised in angry defiance.

Trip leaned back and closed his eyes. He wasn't surprised that Carruthers didn't like him and his style of command, and he himself wasn't very fond of the man, either. But he couldn't condemn him for his opinion because basically Trip had similar thoughts about cloning. It was wrong to treat Sim like it was his own fault that he had come to life, but Trip was sure that most of the crew thought about it the same way he did. But it weren't the preconceptions of a crewmember that troubled him so much that his hands had grown ice cold. Could it be true what he had learnt about Sim? Unable to think straight, he stared at the grating until he heard footsteps on the stairs. Absentmindedly, Trip looked up.

"What are you doing here, Commander?" Hess asked him.

Trip smiled lopsidedly. "I wanted to have a look at the engines."

"I'm aware of that." Hess smiled at him. "I was wondering when you would show up. But what I meant was what are you doing here sitting on the grating?"

Trip sighed. "I can't tell you that I was just gettin' comfortable here, can I?"

"No." Hess confirmed, still smiling understandingly. "You're still off duty. You have to take things easy."

Trip shot her a glance that told her clearly that he had heard these words too often over the last few days. Then the expression on his face changed. "Is it true?" he asked sadly. "Y'know, about Sim only havin' a 15 days lifespan?"

Hess bit her lip. "It is the rumor," she said regrettably.

For a moment Trip stared into nothingness then he accepted Hess' help to get up. "I think I'll go back to my quarters," he told her. Hess nodded in agreement and stepped aside to let Trip pass.

* * *

 

Trip had decided that breakfast could wait. He felt much too troubled to face the people in the messhall who hadn't seen him for two weeks. He just couldn't face their well meaning joviality, the questions about his health, and their well wishes. He wasn't feeling up to this at the moment. First, he had to calm down.

He still felt sick when he reached B-deck. Sick from what he had heard. Now he knew why Sim wasn't very comfortable going to the messhall and meeting the crew. Not if more people were thinking like Carruthers, and treated him like a worthless bug. Trip felt the strong need to look for Carruthers and bury his fist in the man's face. Although he had to admit that it surely had to be a strange feeling for the crew. He was still adjusting to his clone himself. But he had never seen him as an abomination. For Trip, Sim wasn't an alien creature that happened to have his features. Sim was more to him. Trip felt very comfortable in his presence, he saw him as a brother.

He didn't dare to think about the rumor he had heard. It couldn't be true that Sim had to die. Of course it was only a rumor some crewmen who didn't like Sim had come up with.

Entering his quarters, he recognized the wonderful smell of scrambled eggs and roasted bacon that hung in the air. Sim smiled at him. "I brought us some breakfast. Thought you'd be hungry."

Trip smiled back, deciding to postpone his worries for the time being.

"You bet." He sat down, placing a napkin on his lap. Having someone around who knew precisely about his tastes had its advantages. "Where have you been?" he asked, ladling a generous portion of eggs and bacon onto his plate. "It can't take this long just to go to the messhall."

"I was supposed to see Phlox this morning for some tests."

"This early?"

Sim shrugged. "I couldn't sleep anyway. He might have the results by this afternoon."

Thoughtfully, Trip looked at the man. "You know the game where I say a word and you say the first thing that comes to your mind?"

"You know that I know it as well as you do. So what is it?"

Trip eyed his clone carefully. "15-day-lifespan."

Sim swallowed and very carefully he put his fork down to the table. "Who told you?"

"So it's true?" Trip asked.

"Yes, it is." Seeing Trip's shocked face, Sim hurried to explain: "But Phlox is workin' on an enzyme that could guarantee me a normal lifespan."

"Is it workin'?"

"I don't know yet. It shows some effect, otherwise I would be real old by now, but I'm not sure whether it can help me permanently."

Trip shook his head in annoyance. "You're talkin' 'bout it like it's a disease."

"Perhaps it is. Rapid cell aging. C'mon, Trip, you must have thought about it. I grew up within a few days. Every day I grew three or four years older. I'm sure you wondered why the agin' had stopped."

Trip shrugged. "Yeah, I kinda thought about it. Maybe I was hopin' your cellular agin' would stop once you hit my age."

"Stupid thought." Sim smiled.

"Hey, think about who you're callin' stupid here," Trip exclaimed in a mixture of teasing and annoyance. "So what does Phlox think about this enzyme?"

"He tries to look confident every time I show up for my injection. But I don't think that it's workin' perfectly. Phlox has managed to stop the agin' process for now, but I don't like the expression on his face every time he scans me."

"You think the enzyme will fail?"

"It might. Yeah."

"There must be somethin' we can do about this." Trip got up and started walking up and down his quarters. He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sure Phlox can sort this out. Perhaps T'Pol might be able to assist him."

"She already does." Sim looked at him. "Hey, don't worry, I'm glad that I'm still alive at all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said. I'm glad that I'm alive. Remember that I used to be just a slimy alien creature."

Trip swallowed to get past the lump in his throat, but decided to not press the matter. He looked at his clone suspiciously. "There's more to it. What is it, Sim?"

Sim hesitated, but then he answered the question, sighing. "I wasn't supposed to wake up again after surgery."

"Huh?" Trip had stopped in his tracks and stared at him. "Say that again."

"I wasn't supposed to survive the transplantation. Phlox told me that I would die and believe me he was very surprised when I didn't."

Trip still stared at him with his mouth open. Eventually he swallowed. "You underwent this surgery knowin' that you would die?" he asked, incredulously. "Why?"

Sim just shrugged. "I was created for this purpose."

"Bullshit!" Trip shouted. "Stop thinkin' about yourself as a deposit for medical spare parts. You may be a clone, but you're also a livin' bein' with your own thoughts and feelings. And no one can expect you to give your life willingly for someone you didn't even know. So why did you do it? And don't give me this shit about bein' created for this."

Sim looked away, definitely feeling uncomfortable answering Trip's question.

When he finally was able to put things together and truth dawned on him Trip inhaled sharply. "He forced you," he whispered hoarsely, full of fear that his own words would be the truth. "He forced you to undergo a surgery that you wouldn't survive."

There was no need to tell Sim who was meant by "he", they both knew. There was no need for Sim to answer either, as Trip could see the truth in his eyes. And suddenly he felt ice-cold inside.

"I can't believe it." Trip cleared his throat. "You are me. Jon is your friend just as much as he is mine."

Sim shook his head sadly. "Jonathan Archer is your friend, but definitely not mine. I have all those memories of him, of our friendship, the good times we shared, but he doesn't know me. I'm a stranger to him. A stranger that accidentally looks like his best friend."

"Even if you're right, that's no reason to force you to die!"

Sim's eyes were full of pain. "Eventually, I did it willingly."

Trip's features hardened. "I don't believe you," he pressed.

"But it's true." Sim's voice was so low that Trip had to strain his ears to understand him. "I did it for our parents. I didn't want them to lose you after they had lost Lizzie so recently. And I did it for Lizzie. So you would survive and find the Xindi." Sim stepped up to Trip and put his hands on his shoulder. "You're right, Trip. I am a livin' bein'. But no one would have accepted me to be you. I have your talents, your feelings, your memories, but I'm not you. And I would never have been able to take your place. Not aboard this ship and not within our family. To save your life was the best thing to do to help all those people I love."

Trip laid his head on Sim's shoulder when tears began to burn in his eyes. He couldn't hold them back and finally he let them flow freely. "I don't deserve such a sacrifice", he sobbed.

Sim hugged him tightly. "You do, brother, you do."

* * *

 

Hoshi smiled a heartfelt welcome when Trip entered the bridge, but her smile faded when she saw his tense features. Trip nodded at her, regretting that he wasn't able to return the smile. He approached the captain.

"You got a minute? We have to talk."

Archer nodded and got up from the captain's chair. "In my ready room."

Once they had entered the ready room, Archer sat down, offering Trip a chair as well. "What happened, Trip? You look upset."

Trip refused to sit down. "Why did you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's not beat around the bush, Jon. You know perfectly well what I mean. You ordered Phlox to create a livin' bein' only to harvest his brain tissue. And you would have forced Sim to die if he hadn't given his life willingly."

"Did Sim tell you that?"

"No, he didn't. He tried to hide it. But y'know, I'm pretty good at readin' the expressions on his face."

Archer leaned forward in the chair. "I didn't have another choice, Trip. I need you for the mission. Enterprise needs her chief engineer. Without your ingenious technical mind we're doomed to fail."

"Sim has the same genius. He would've been able to carry on my work as chief engineer."

"No, he wouldn't. We never thought that he would live long enough. I allowed Phlox to create him only because we knew that he was supposed to have a 15 day lifespan. There was no way any of us could have known that he might have your memories."

"And that made it difficult to kill him, right?" Trip's tone grew testy. "You thought he would just be an imbecile heap of cells that would be easy to get rid of."

Archer flinched. "When I gave the order to create him we didn't know that the odds of surviving the transplantation were not in his favor."

"Ah, what a nice way to put it. You must've been scared to death when Phlox told you that he actually had survived."

"I'm glad that he did, Trip."

"Yeah, so you don't have to bother your conscience with another dead man." Trip looked at Jon, barely able to keep his anger at bay. "I can't believe that you would've dragged Sim to sickbay and would've forced him to undergo this operation. I'm really happy that Phlox could save me but you can't do that at the expense of another person's life. That's despicable. Sim may be a clone but he's not less valuable than you or I."

"Believe me, Trip, I'm not proud of it, but I would have done it. As I said, I need my chief engineer for this mission."

Trip couldn't stand facing the man whom he had considered his best friend any longer. He turned his back to him and stepped to the window, looking out.

"Trip." He heard the captain's pleading voice, but refused to look at him. His insides were cringing. He couldn't believe that Archer had become such an unfeeling man. He himself was eager to find the Xindi, but not like this. He still tried to follow his conscience. It earned him some trouble sometimes, but he never would stop acting human. Or at least what he considered to be human.

Suddenly an image appeared before his inner eye. He saw himself standing in this room and Archer looking out of this very window, turning his back on him, after his actions had caused the suicide of the cogenitor Charles. Trip had tried to explain his actions to his captain, had searched for the tiniest sign that his friend would at least try to understand what he had done, but Archer had only stared out the window, his shoulders hunched in disappointment. Trip had sworn to himself that he would never let his friends down that way, that he would always listen to their reasons and try to understand, even if he'd been disappointed by their actions. And now he was standing here, doing just the same thing Archer had done then.

With some effort, Trip turned around to face his captain. Archer acknowledged it with a grateful nod.

"Do you think this is easy for me, Trip?" he asked. "I watched Sim grow up. I learned a lot about you only by watching him and talking to him. We had a great time when he was a child and I appreciate what he did for Enterprise. No one could come up with such an idea but you. Or your clone." The corner of Archer's mouth twitched a little. "But I have to accomplish this mission. And for this I have to make sacrifices."

"You sacrificed your conscience, Jon."

"Maybe." Archer sighed. "I know that you don't agree with some of my decisions. Nor does Malcolm. I'll never forget the look on his face when I had to torture the Osariaan for information. But I had to do it, like I would have had to sacrifice Sim to get you back. I'm sorry but I would do it again if necessary. We have to save Earth. Earth, Trip! We're not on a simple mission of exploration. Earth's fate is at stake. What would you have done if you'd been in my place?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I would have at least tried to treat Sim with the enzyme that could guarantee him a normal life span."

"Phlox learned about the enzyme a little too late and wasn't sure whether it would have the desired effect, either. We couldn't take the risk."

"But Sim could have taken my place as your chief engineer. He would have done just as good a job."

"And if the enzyme had not worked, Trip, you both would have been dead. It was too risky."

Trip just nodded. He was running out of arguments. He didn't like it, but he was beginning to understand Archer's motives.

"May I ask you something, Trip?" the captain spoke up. "If it had been your decision, if we had been able to ask you, what would you have decided? Would you have been ready to die? Would you prefer to be dead instead of alive?"

Trip eyed his captain carefully. He didn't know the answer to this question. He did want to live but not at another man's expense. But could he really reproach Archer for exploiting all options to save his life? Things simply had gotten out of control. Perhaps he would have reacted the same way his captain did. And all the same, Sim was still alive. So it was all but hypothetical what they were talking about.

"I don't know, Jon," Trip said sadly, turning around to leave. "But I can see your point." When his hand already touched the panel to open the door, he hesitated. "D'you know what disappoints me most?" he asked, his gaze still on the closed door. "You always talk about the mission, about needin' your chief engineer back. What about me, Jon? You never said a word about having me back. I thought I was your friend. Did you care about me even for a second or only about the mission?"

When it remained silent behind him, Trip looked over his shoulder. Archer still sat at the table, the expression on his face more torn and tortured than Trip had ever seen. He didn't know what to do and thought about leaving his captain alone when Jon began to speak, so softly that Trip had to take a step closer to be able to hear him.

"When Phlox told me that you were in a coma with severe brain injuries I was beside myself with worry. I couldn't imagine completing my task without your help. I couldn't fulfill the mission without the best engineer Starfleet has to offer, but even more I couldn't fulfill it without my best friend to support me. I was so worried because of the mission, so afraid that we wouldn't find the Xindi and even more afraid to find them." Archer ran his hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "You've always been there when I needed you. You supported me, and you always tried to reassure me, even if you didn't agree with my decisions. You gave me the confidence I needed so much. I relied on you, I still do. But then the accident happened and Phlox told me that I was about to lose you. I couldn't let this happen, Trip, I just couldn't. But how could I tell Phlox, tell Starfleet that I agreed to create a clone only to keep my friend? That I'm a selfish bastard who can't stand the thought of losing the best friend he ever had? Starfleet would have never approved of it. I couldn't allow my feelings as a friend to interfere with my duties as a captain. It had to be for higher reasons, for the mission only. And so I kept telling everyone that I did it only for this purpose. To keep my chief engineer. To keep an officer who is crucial to the mission. And I kept saying this so often that I finally started to believe it myself."

Trip looked down at Archer who remained staring at the table, never raising his head. The confessions he had just heard made his heart clench. Archer had never spoken to him like this and the truth that the man still considered him his best friend and needed him so desperately touched him deeply. He could understand how difficult this particular decision had been for Jon who had to shove his personal feelings aside and had to act professionally, not like a friend, but like a captain with a difficult, if not impossible, mission. Suddenly he felt deep compassion at the sight of his friend. This man didn't need accusations, he needed comfort. Trip laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Jon," he said gently. "I understand. I don't blame you anymore."

"But I blame myself. I can't forget what I have done."

"But you can live with it. Like you can live with all your decisions. That's why you are Captain of Enterprise and that's why I trust you to succeed in this mission."

"Thanks, Trip." Archer's voice sounded hoarse. Then, with an effort, he laid his hand over Trip's that was still resting on his shoulder.

Trip squeezed Archer's shoulder. "D'you know that Sim has all my memories of our friendship, Jon? That you are the same friend to him as you are to me? He remembers how we've met, all the things we did together, our missions, even our drinking bouts. He wants to be your friend the same as I do. Don't push him away, Jon. He doesn't deserve bein' treated like a stranger."

"It's not so easy, Trip. Don't think that I don't care for him. He's too much like you to not like him. But I can't look into his eyes again. You don't know about our argument. Don't know the things I've said to him."

"I can imagine. But as you said, Sim is too much like me. If I'm able to understand, he can, too. Just talk to him."

Archer sighed. "I'll try. Just give me some time."

Trip grinned. "You got yourself into quite a fix, Cap'n. You have to cope with two Trips now and that won't be easy. But you get two pretty good engineers in return."

Archer looked up at Trip and for the first time since they had begun to talk, he smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Trip was shuffling when he went back to his quarters. He felt tired and drained after the argument with the captain. But he had also learned a lot. He knew that Jon hadn't trifled with Sim's fate, it had been a hard decision and even though Trip still didn't agree with the measures Archer had taken, he was able to understand him now. His friend had been desperate, finally seeing no other option than to force the being that had been created for the sole purpose of harvesting his tissue to undergo an operation he wasn't expected to survive.

A faint smile crossed his face when he entered his quarters and saw Sim sitting in front of the computer. "Hey, what're you doin'?"

"Checkin' the reports."

"I thought you were in Engineerin'."

Sim shrugged. "I haven't got new orders yet. Now that you're back, I don't know whether I'm supposed to work there."

"I sure would like to have you around. You could do my work while I'm relaxin'."

Sim laughed out loud. "Yeah, that's the way you'd handle it."

Trip sat down on his bunk, sighing heavily. "At the moment I wouldn't object to you doin' my work."

Sim got up. "You look dog tired. How did your talk with the cap'n go?"

The corners of Trip's mouth twitched. He hadn't told Sim that he intended to take the captain to task. Of course, in his place Sim would have done the same and so he simply knew.

"Better than I had expected," Trip admitted. "Let's say we came to a new understanding. And now I know that he cares for me as a friend and not only as a good engineer on a difficult mission."

"I could've told you that in the first place."

"What? That Jon cares for me? How could I've known? All he ever talked about was havin' his chief engineer back."

"Yeah, but I looked into his eyes and saw the concern that he was tryin' to hide. He always cared for you, Trip, but he couldn't tell anyone."

Trip bit his lip. "How come a clone of mine is so much wiser than I am?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because I'm an individual with my own experiences." Sim smiled. "You should sleep for a while."

"Will you go to Engineerin', check how they're doin'?" Trip said.

"I don't know whether I'm still welcome there."

A thought crossed Trip's mind, and an evil grin spread on his face. He gave Sim a meaningful look. Laughing, Sim shook his head. "Oh no. No way will I do that, Trip. After all, I'm not you."

"Doesn't matter. You're even better than me. You know all about what happened in Engineerin' durin' the time I was out of the loop."

Sim's eyes were sparkling when he thought about it. "It's temptin'," he admitted. "But do you think that's okay with Starfleet regulations?"

"Nah, maybe not," Trip admitted. Then he shrugged. "But you are me. I don't think there'll be any harm if you check Engineerin' in my uniform."

Sim thought about it. "Okay, I'll do it."

Trip watched Sim take a blue Starfleet overall with the insignia of a commander out of the wardrobe. He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Y'know, I always wanted to have a clone back when I was in school. I fantasized about sending him to school so I myself could stay home and do the real important things."

"Like sleepin' in until midday and then tamperin' in the basement with the beautiful things from the junkyard?"

Trip heaved a sigh. "Why do I have the feelin' that I'm talkin' to myself?"

Sim just grinned. "How do I look?"

"Ah, Commander Tucker, here you are." Trip's eyes sparkled. "I feel the urge to stand at attention."

"Feel free to do so."

"Nah, I think I'll do the important thing and go for a nap." Trip sobered up. "You know Ensign Carruthers down in Engineerin'?"

"Course I do. He's an excellent engineer, but was never meant to go into deep space. He joined us after the Xindi attack. He lost some relatives, an aunt and an uncle, if I recall correctly. Because of that he's a little bit xenophobic. It's not that I disagree with him when it comes to the Xindi, though."

"And except for your memories, have you ever spoken to him yourself?"

Sim tilted his head to one side. "No, he never talked to me. You know that he's not a very sociable man and he's had his problems with you, but I think he likes me even less for what I am. He's tryin' hard to avoid me. But sometimes I caught him starin' at me and his expression wasn't very friendly. "

"Be careful," Trip advised.

Sim nodded, looking at him thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "Hey, with this uniform I'm Commander Charles Tucker and no one would even dare get in my way. Go to sleep, Trip, you need it."

* * *

 

His rumbling stomach woke Trip a few hours later. Sleepily, he sat up. Sim hadn't come back yet. Trip thought of paying a visit to Engineering himself but two commanders would most likely provide for some confusion. Besides, his empty stomach told him rather urgently that he had better go to the messhall instead of Engineering.

Trip got to the bathroom to refresh himself when his eyes fell on Sim's grey overall. He had intended to go to the messhall in his civvies, as he was still off duty, but suddenly it was tempting to take Sim's place for once. Could be interesting and perhaps he would be spared the crew's attention.

Trip had been right. When he entered the messhall, some of the crewmembers nodded at him in a friendly way, others simply didn't see him or looked aside. In a corner Malcolm sat alone at a table, shoving his food around on his plate.

Trip got a plate with food and went over to him. "May I?" he asked.

Malcolm looked up and after a short moment, he smiled invitingly. "Of course."

"You don't seem to be very hungry," Trip said, tending to his food.

Malcolm just shrugged.

"You're worried," Trip stated. "'Bout me?"

"More about Trip," Malcolm admitted. "How is he doing?"

Trip suppressed a smile. What a difference a uniform could make. "He's fine. Really," he confirmed when he saw Malcolm's doubtful expression.

"I'm trying to imagine how I would feel, if…" Malcolm's voice faded and Trip finished the sentence for him.

"…if a clone had been created for the sole purpose of harvesting his tissue and saving your life?"

Malcolm flinched and Trip had to remind himself that Malcolm assumed it was Sim sitting before him. He knew that it was unfair not to reveal his identity to Malcolm, but he wanted to know how his friends treated Sim and this way he could experience their reactions personally.

Malcolm sighed. "I don't know whether I could cope with this, but I'm very glad that we have Trip back. He's crucial for the mission."

Trip frowned. Another one who gave him this crap and didn't want to admit that he was glad to have his friend back.

Malcolm eyed him carefully and Trip thought that for a split second something like suspicion had crossed his face. "What do you think about it?" he asked Trip.

"I can understand the captain's reasons."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Indeed?"

"Yeah." Trip wasn't up to talking about his argument with the captain, so he got up. "I'll get some dessert."

When he came back, the corners of Malcolm's mouth twitched. "Pecan pie?"

"You know that it's my favorite."

"Yes, I know." Malcolm watched him shoving a big forkful of pie into his mouth. "Sim's favorite dessert is key lime."

Trip almost dropped the fork. Incredulously, he looked at Malcolm, who grinned broadly.

"How did you know?"

When he saw his suspicions confirmed, Malcolm's smile grew even broader. "No idea. It was just a shot in the dark. I think it's something in your eyes. And Sim does prefer key lime pie. He told me personally."

"Key lime pie used to be my favorite dessert on Earth," Trip confessed. "No one makes better key lime pie than my mother. But I have to admit that no one makes better pecan pie than Chef. You won't tell my mother, will you?"

Malcolm smiled, but sobered up again. "So you can see the captain's reasons?"

Trip rubbed a hand over his eyes. "We had an argument this morning."

Malcolm nodded. "I thought so. When you came marching onto the bridge and demanding that the captain talk to you, I felt sorry for him."

Trip smiled lopsidedly. "It wasn't a very pleasant talk. But I can see his reasons." Trip looked up. "What would you have done, Malcolm? Let me die?"

Malcolm startled. "I would have done everything to save your life. But to be honest I'm very happy that it wasn't me who had to make that decision."

"What do you think about Sim?"

"The truth?" Malcolm grimaced uncomfortably.

"Of course, the truth."

"I feel a little awkward around him. I don't want to and I try hard to not let it show. I like Sim and I should feel comfortable in his presence but the feeling that I'm talking to you and at the same time I'm not is just weird. I'm sorry about that but I can't do anything to help it."

"Perhaps it'd help if you saw him as my twin?"

"Oh goodness gracious, the Tucker twins," Malcolm blurted out. "How am I supposed to survive two of you?"

Trip chuckled. "You can at least try." He looked around. "How is the crew treatin' Sim?"

Malcolm thought for a moment. "A few people don't know how to treat him and decide to ignore him, others act in a polite but careless way, but most of the crewmembers treat him well. He doesn't have the respect you have, but I think he'll be accepted as a crewmember in a while. Remember that he's been on Enterprise for just two weeks and we all watched him grow up. It's hard to ask a man for advice who was a child just a few days ago."

"I see your point." Trip cleared his plate. "It's not easy for Sim, either. He notices the furtive stares, and knows that people treat him different from the way he remembers."

"It's a scary thing that he has all your memories."

"Yeah, it is, but we both are busy getting' used to that. It has some funny aspects as well."

"I suppose you're right. Like switching places, for instance. What is Captain Archer planning to do with him now?"

Trip shrugged. "I don't know. First, we'll have to see if that enzyme works."

"Enzyme?" Malcolm frowned. "What enzyme?"

"Don't you know? Sim was supposed to live only for 15 days. Phlox is treating him with an enzyme that could guarantee him a normal lifespan. But Sim isn't quite sure whether it's goin' to work perfectly."

"That's bad news." Malcolm bit his lip. "I've heard some rumors, but nothing definite." He paused for a moment. "I have to admit that I've got used to Sim. I'm sure I'm going to get used to the sight of two of you." He snorted. "I thought we were the disaster twins on Enterprise, but I think I have to turn my part over to Sim."

"Don't worry, Malcolm." Trip patted his friend's shoulder. "We can always be a disaster trio."

* * *

 

Making his way back to his quarters, Trip was still chuckling. Malcolm's shocked expression at his remark had been great. His head had begun to throb once again but Trip realized that it wasn't as bad as it had been in the morning, so he decided to go to Engineering. Pretending that he was Sim wouldn't cause any confusion and he looked forward to watching himself and his command style.

His crew was busy when he entered the room, most of them doing standard procedures. He could see Sim standing at a control station, talking to Ensign Fane who smiled at the man she thought was her CO.

Trip noticed that some people were smiling at him, too. Rostov, standing at his station, gave him a friendly nod and Ensign Kelly asked him how he felt. They thought he was Sim and Trip felt relieved. Some people might avoid his clone, but it wasn't as bad as he had feared.

A console behind the warp core beeped and out of habit Trip went to take care of the problem. From the corners of his eyes he saw someone approaching and asked without turning his head: "I need a hypospanner. Could you get me one, please?"

The steps behind him fell silent and when he didn't hear an approving "aye sir", Trip turned around, startling a little when he faced Carruthers of all people.

Carruthers eyed him watchfully. "Just who the hell do you think you are?" he said in an upset tone of voice. "You may look like the Commander, but that doesn't give you the right to order me around."

For a second Trip thought about telling the ensign that he actually was Commander Tucker, but he decided that it would do more harm than good to reveal that they had swapped their roles.

"I only asked you to hand me a hypospanner," he tried to soothe Carruthers, but the ensign got even more upset.

"Do you even have permission to work here? You can't just come here and do whatever you want."

Trip tried to remain calm, although it was difficult when he saw the hostile expression in the man's eyes.

"I'm authorized by Commander Tucker," he answered, his tone a little more testy than he had intended. "Is that enough or do I need your permission, too?"

"Don't be bold, clone." Carruthers took a step forward to look into Trip's eyes. "And you call me Ensign or Sir."

Trip just stared at the man. He was still trying to stay calm, but refused to call this man "Sir". His own rank was indeed a lot higher, although Carruthers didn't have a clue who was standing before him.

"Answer me," Carruthers demanded.

Trip shrugged, turning away from the ensign. "Sorry, but I don't know what you want from me. So please let me finish my work."

Carruthers grabbed Trip's arm and yanked him around.

"Don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you." The man's face was contorted with anger. "I guess you think you're someone special because you saved our CO's life? But you're not, you're not even human. You've only been created so that Phlox could harvest your tissue to save a human. And looking at Commander Tucker I have to admit you served that purpose well. But don't try to give orders here. You're nothing more than a heap of cells, a blasphemy to God and I feel sick even having to speak to you."

Trip felt a spray of saliva hit his face when the ensign spat out his contemptuous words. Disgusted, not only by the spittle but also by the ensign's words, Trip wiped a hand over his face. His forced calm was gone. Wild anger boiled up inside him when he stared into the other man's eyes.

The corners of Carruther's mouth twitched contemptuously. "You want to hit me? Come on, do it. I know you wouldn't dare. I'm an ensign in Starfleet, and what are you? You know that you are an abomination, don't you? I really can't understand why Starfleet agreed to Phlox' suggestion to create you. There's no place for you on a reputable starship like Enterprise."

Trip couldn't bear it any longer, but at the same time he was glad that it wasn't Sim who had to listen to this. He clenched his fists. Carruthers was right in one aspect: Sim wasn't a member of Starfleet and no one could hold him responsible for attacking a subordinate.

Startled, Carruthers took a step back when he saw the furious expression on Trip's face. But it was too late. Trip punched his fist right into Carruther's face, serving him an uppercut that yanked the ensign's head backwards. Carruthers fell to the floor, groaning and cringing.

"Talkin' about a heap of cells," Trip muttered.

"What's goin' on here?"

Trip tried to calm down when he heard Sim's voice and literally at the last moment he remembered to stand at attention. The corners of Sim's mouth twitched in amusement, but then his eyes came to rest on Carruthers who struggled awkwardly to his feet. "What happened?" he asked in Trip's best commanding tone of voice. Hess, who had followed Sim, gave Carruthers a hand, her gaze curiously flickering between Sim and Trip.

"This blasted clone hit me," Carruthers yelled, spitting some bloody saliva onto the floor. "Throw him in the brig or even better, let Phlox get rid of him." The man was fuming.

Trip's features hardened in dismay and he carefully peered at Sim. He didn't know whether Sim had heard some of Carruther's earlier words, but he was quite sure that Sim was very well able to draw his own conclusions.

Despite the insult Sim remained perfectly calm. Only Trip was able to recognize the small signs of agitation in his eyes.

"I'll take Ensign Carruthers to sickbay," Sim decided. He glanced at Trip, but after a small hesitation he addressed Hess. "You're in command." He turned to Trip. "And you go help her when you're done here."

"Aye sir," Trip confirmed, smiling inwardly. Looking at Sim, he sighed. Phlox wouldn't be very amused because the uniform would tell him that Trip had gone to work despite doctor's orders. Trip would have wanted to warn Sim, but with Hess standing beside him and Carruthers shooting him angry glances until Sim took his arm and literally yanked him away, he had no chance to do so.

Trip watched them leave, already regretting what he had done. Hitting a subordinate simply wasn't an option, no matter how insulting he had been. He was lucky that no one recognized him, since his actions had been more than inappropriate for a senior officer.

Hess looked at Trip, an approving smile playing on her lips. "Well done," she said.

"Huh?" Trip stared at her in disbelief. "I hit a Starfleet officer."

Hess shrugged dismissively. "He deserved it. I would have loved to do the same this morning. You just took your chances."

Trip flinched. He had asked Sim about Carruthers but had never told him what the man had said earlier. If he really had been Sim, Hess' words would have made him suspicious. But he flinched even more when he heard her next words.

"Of course you couldn't have done it wearing your own uniform, Commander. Beating a subordinate would get you into big trouble."

For the second time Trip's mouth fell open. "How the hell did you know? I thought no one could distinguish between us. And you're already the second one to notice."

Hess smiled somewhat gleefully. "It's not how you look. It's how you act. Your experiences differed during the last few weeks. The Commander Tucker who was around here the last few hours knew a little bit too much about the tiny things that happened here during the last week. For example Mike Rostov burnt his hand about five or six days ago and he asked him about it. It was a minor burn that Mike didn't even report to sickbay. So it's not in the reports and you wouldn't know about it. There were a few other things I thought Commander Tucker couldn't know, unless the man in this uniform wasn't Commander Tucker. But don't worry, I think no one else noticed and I won't say a word. And like I said, Carruthers deserved it. He never said anything to Sim before, but I didn't like the contemptuous glances he threw at him. I think we'll be able to deal with him. Come on, let's get to work."

Trip laughed good-humoredly and followed Hess, deciding to forget about Carruthers.

* * *

 

Phlox looked up from his work when the sickbay doors swooshed open. "What happened?" he asked when Sim brought Carruthers in.

"That damned clone hit me," Carruthers said, his voice muffled. Phlox studied the ensign's chin. It had already gone slightly purple, and it looked like it would be a fairly ugly bruise. "He did?" he said in a tone of voice that was quite a bit cooler than his initial welcome, then turned to Sim. "I don't believe that I allowed you to go back to work, Commander."

"Sorry, Doc, but I had to take a look at Engineerin'." It was the best Sim could come up with without giving his identity away.

Phlox sighed. "We'll talk about this. Please lie down on a bed, Commander. I have to examine you."

"What about me?" Carruthers demanded. "I'm the one who is injured. That abomination tried to kill me."

"You asked for it," Sim snarled at him with barely controlled anger. He knew that some of the crew didn't feel very comfortable in his presence but no one had called him an abomination yet. He hadn't overheard much of the conversation between Trip and Carruthers but it had been clear enough that the man hated him just because of what he was.

After a short scan, Phlox treated Carruthers with a tincture and a hypospray and gave him clearance to go to work again.

Sim watched Carruthers leave. With raised eyebrows he glanced at Phlox , who scanned him now with a lot more diligence and interest than he had treated Carruthers.

"Am I wrong, Doc, or did you treat Carruthers with less care than you usually show?"

Phlox smiled, switching back to his usual friendly expression. "Commander, if you're ever going to be a father you'll realize that you tend to act not too generously towards someone who insults someone whose diapers you used to change."

Sim couldn't help but laugh. "You're still a good father, Phlox."

"And you are not Commander Tucker." Phlox looked at his scanner, frowning. "What are you doing wearing this uniform, Sim?"

Sim hopped off the bed. "Trip asked me to check Engineerin' for him. He actually was a good boy and rested."

"So it was Commander Tucker who hit Carruthers?"

Sim startled. "He was just defendin' me. You won't tell Cap'n Archer, will you? Trip would get into a lot of trouble if the cap'n knew about this."

"Don't worry. From what I've heard from the ensign's very mouth I can understand Commander Tucker's urge to interfere. But all the same, I still want to see him."

"I'll tell him." Sim made his way to the door when he stopped in his tracks. "Am I so different from Trip that you could see it so quickly?"

The doctor's features saddened and Sim went back, taking Phlox by the arm. "Phlox, what is it? Do you already have the results from the tests?"

Phlox nodded, but didn't look into Sim's eyes.

"What is it? The enzyme isn't working, is it?"

Phlox heaved a deep sigh. "No, the enzyme is working nearly perfectly. That's the reason you still look like Commander Tucker. Otherwise your physical age would be around 70 or 80 years by now. Unfortunately the enzyme is affecting your inner organs and at this point, I'm afraid I don't know how to stop - let alone reverse - this process."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"To say it bluntly, you have a weak heart. Your lungs aren't functioning properly, nor are your kidneys."

"You say I'm goin' to die from multiple organ failure?"

"No, I'm not saying that." Phlox steeled himself. "There's still time to find out why the enzyme has this disastrous effect on your organs. You only have to remember that you have to take things easy, that you mustn't overexert yourself."

"You mean I can't work any longer?"

Phlox shook his head, laying a gentle hand on Sim's arm. "I didn't say that, Sim," he said, smiling understandingly. "Of course you may work, just take into consideration that your heart is twice as old as you feel."

"A weak heart." Sim snorted. "I'd never have thought of that."

"I'm sure I can do something about it," Phlox reassured him. "Not today and not tomorrow, but the tests are promising. Just take it easy."

"I will, Doc." Sim nodded to Phlox, gratefully, before he turned to leave.

"And tell Commander Tucker if he doesn't want to experience more headaches he should show up here very soon."

Sim looked at Phlox, biting his lip. "Please don't tell him about your results, Phlox. I don't want him to worry about me. And it would be great if you also wouldn't tell Cap'n Archer."

"Don't worry, Sim, there's no reason to tell someone before my tests are finished."

"That's good to hear. See ya, Doc."


	4. Chapter 4

Trip was working on the antimatter array with Hess and some members of his crew when the comm. beeped. "Archer to Tucker."

Trip was about to answer the call like usual when Hess called him back. "Sim, could you have a look over here?"

Trip started. It would have looked odd to his crew if he had answered the comm. while still pretending that he was Sim. He shot Hess a grateful glance as he went over to her. He could only hope that Sim still acted as Commander Tucker and would answer Jon's call. Otherwise he would have a hard time explaining to the captain why he hadn't reacted.

He let out an inaudible sigh when Sim showed up. "I've been called to the bridge for a briefin' and I would like Sim to accompany me," he told Hess.

"Of course," she said, seemingly unaffected, but Trip could see her biting on her lip so as not to let her amusement show.

"I was afraid that you wouldn't answer the comm.," he let Sim know as the door to Engineering slid shut behind them.

"And I was afraid that you would answer it," Sim admitted, laughing.

When the turbolift made its way to the bridge, Sim suddenly hit the emergency stop and began to undress. When Trip raised his eyebrows, he shrugged. "It's one thing playing you in Engineerin', it's another when the cap'n wants to talk to you."

"Think you're right." Trip nodded and pulled down the zipper of the grey overall. He had to admit that he felt more comfortable in the blue Starfleet uniform, wearing it gave him some confidence. "How's Carruthers?" he asked, not really interested.

"He's okay. Phlox sent him back to work. Didn't he show up in Engineerin'?"

"Didn't see him. Can't say I missed him. What about Phlox? Did he recognize you?"

"Course he did. He literally knows me inside out. Didn't take him long to notice that I'm not you."

"Hess noticed as well as Malcolm. I think we're not so identical after all."

"I'm sure people might see the differences between us if they really cared." Sim set the turbolift in motion.

"Did the cap'n say what he wants?"

"No."

"We went into orbit around a small planet about twenty minutes ago," Trip mused. "Perhaps that's the reason."

The turbolift stopped and Trip got out but Sim hesitated. "I'm not sure if I'm expected to join you."

"I want you to join us," Trip said. "I invite you." With Sim in tow he made his way to the ready room where the other senior officers were already waiting.

"Hope you don't mind, Sir, that I brought Sim with me," Trip addressed the captain.

Archer looked at Sim thoughtfully, then nodded. "It's okay, Trip. Sim, you're welcome here."

"Thank you, Captain," Sim said formally, his stiff words causing Trip to smile.

"I'm glad that you wear different uniforms," Hoshi said with a lopsided grin. "It wouldn't be easy to distinguish between you otherwise."

"You're absolutely right, Hoshi," Malcolm confirmed, raising a questioning eyebrow at Trip and Sim as he tried to fathom whether they had swapped their uniforms once again, and who was who. Trip and Sim both smiled at him innocently and Malcolm groaned in mock despair. There was no sign whether the captain had noticed their silent exchange; he offered Sim the place next to Trip and sat down to start the briefing. Trip was glad to see that Archer was at least trying to look into Sim's eyes, although he still had difficulty doing so.

Archer looked around. "As you all know, we entered orbit around an M-class world half an hour ago. Usually it would not be interesting to us, but T'Pol detected a small craft that crashed on the surface. It's Xindi."

"Xindi?" Trip looked up. "Any lifesigns?"

"I didn't detect any," T'Pol answered.

"So what use can this craft be to us?" Trip wanted to know.

Acher pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, Trip. But we're running out of options. We lost the isotopic signature of the kemocite Gralik had marked. We don't know where to search for it. We still don't know the location of the Xindi who are building the weapon. What if this vessel is military?"

T'Pol raised one eyebrow. "That is doubtful."

"But it's possible," Archer said. "If it is, its database may be able to tell us something, maybe even which direction we should go looking for them. We can't afford not to check."

"You say there aren't any lifesigns," Sim pondered. "So either the crew is dead or they were picked up by another vessel. In the latter case, don't you think the Xindi would have destroyed their database if it carried critical information?"

"We don't even know whether it's a military vessel. But even if it isn't, we may be able to learn something more about the Xindi. Every bit of information could be important."

"So you want to send a landing party down there?" Malcolm asked.

"It's not so easy." Archer looked up. "T'Pol?"

"The planet is covered with a thick layer of different gases which causes atmospheric interferences," T'Pol began to explain. "It's impossible to fly through this layer, all electronic functions would shut down within an instant, causing every vessel to crash. I assume that is what happened to the Xindi craft. But from time to time a window appears in the layer that enables scanning and would make it possible to approach the planet with a shuttlepod."

"So there is no possibility to transport down?" Malcolm asked.

"It is not advisable. I don't think the transporter beams can be adjusted properly."

"I prefer a shuttle anyway," Trip muttered.

Archer looked at him. "You, Trip? I don't think Phlox has given you a clear bill of health."

Trip grimaced. "I'm sure he will, Cap'n, as soon as I find the time to go to sickbay."

"You don't have time to go to sickbay?" Archer raised his eyebrows. "May I ask what you were doing? I thought you were off duty."

Trip was at a loss for words, not knowing whether Archer was teasing him or wanted a serious answer. Sim saved him. "He was resting, Cap'n, like Phlox ordered him to."

Archer looked at them both, giving them the impression that he knew much more than he was supposed to, but then he dropped the matter, turning to Trip. "I thought of sending Malcolm, T'Pol and you, provided that Phlox allows it."

"Only three people? Don't think that Malcolm likes goin' down there without a bunch of security people."

"The planet is uninhabited, Trip," Malcolm explained. "Only plants and some primeval animals."

"Like dinosaurs," Sim offered, making the others laugh.

"There wasn't much time for a thorough scan when the last window appeared, but I don't think there are any animals that are bigger than a wolf," T'Pol told him with one eyebrow raised.

"Small dinosaurs are also dangerous," Sim muttered and Trip gently elbowed him in the ribs.

Archer looked at Sim and actually smiled. "I think the team is competent enough to cope with animals, even with dinosaurs."

"Would you mind assignin' me to the away team, Cap'n?" Sim asked, sobering up again.

Archer hesitated and Sim tried to explain. "Sir, I remember all of Trip's away missions, but the memories aren't really mine. I would like to make my own experiences." Sim shot Archer a pleading glance that was so much like Trip's best puppy stare that Archer actually had to smile.

He thought about it for a minute. "I don't see any reason why you shouldn't join the away team, Sim. I wouldn't mind. Malcolm?"

"It's okay with me, Sir. Couldn't be bad to have another capable engineer at hand."

"Captain," T'Pol spoke up. "I don't think it is necessary to have four people on the away team. With your permission, I think I would be of more use if I stayed on Enterprise to observe the atmospheric interferences."

Trip was disappointed. He would have liked to have T'Pol on the away team, although he would never have admitted it. He couldn't understand her. He didn't believe that her statement that three people would be enough for this mission was her only reason. He had the distinct feeling that her decision had something to do with Sim being assigned to the away team. Could it be that she, too, had prejudices against Sim? That wouldn't be very Vulcan, though. And why in hell was Sim having such a hard time trying to conceal the furtive smile that was tugging at his lips?

* * *

 

Trip groaned, his eyes tightly shut. His body was starting to itch all over like it always did when he had to lie perfectly still. He hated the narrow scanner chamber. It gave him the feeling of being buried alive. But to get Phlox's okay for the mission he had to undergo this procedure.

Trip thought about the briefing. He had been very pleased to see how Jon had reacted to Sim, treating him like a worthy crewmember. Trip scolded himself for forgetting to ask the captain to give Sim his own quarters. Truth be told he felt very comfortable sharing his quarters with Sim and he wouldn't mind doing it for a few more days.

But there was something going on between Sim and T'Pol. There was no need for T'Pol to stay on board only because there were two engineers assigned to the team. Trip didn't believe for a moment that T'Pol had prejudices against Sim. She wouldn't feel this way just because he was a clone. If anything, it would be the fact that Sim was _his_ clone that might worry her. Trip chuckled. He felt sorry for T'Pol, having two Charles Tuckers around. But there was more to it and Trip was determined to find out.

The door to the scanner chamber opened and the stretcher Trip lay on slid out. Phlox beamed at him. "I'm happy to say, Commander, that you have regained full health. You're allowed to go back to full duty and of course to join the away team."

"Thanks Doc." Trip got himself into a sitting position. "That's good to hear." He hesitated. "Doc?"

Phlox surveyed him with questioning interest. "What is it, Commander?"

Trip inhaled audibly. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of me. Y'know…" Trip shifted uncomfortably on the stretcher, "…when I was out."

"You're welcome, Commander." Phlox smiled. "But I'm not the one you should thank. I didn't do very much besides the medical care. It was mostly Captain Archer who took care of you."

"The cap'n?" Trip exclaimed.

"Yes, Captain Archer came by every morning and every evening. And when he had the time to do so, he took over the duties of my medical staff. He often washed and shaved you, moved your limbs so that they wouldn't get stiff and every evening he sat beside your bed for almost an hour, telling you about the day and what was going on on Enterprise and every evening he promised you a good kick in your… hmm, …behind if you weren't going to wake up again soon."

Trip nodded, fighting hard to suppress the burning sensation in his eyes.

"He wasn't the only one," Phlox proceeded, pretending not to see Trip's emotional state. "Lieutenant Reed came by every day as did Ensigns Sato and Mayweather, and even T'Pol sat at your bedside from time to time."

"T'Pol?" Trip jumped from the stretcher, so surprised that he didn't know what to say.

"Please excuse me, Commander, I've got work to do." Phlox once again smiled and left, leaving Trip in confusion.

* * *

 

Late in the evening, Trip was still thinking about T'Pol. After a companionable dinner with Sim, Hoshi and Travis - Malcolm hadn't been able to make it due to some problems in the armory - he made his way to T'Pol's quarters. He still couldn't believe that she had taken the time to sit beside his bed when he had lain in a coma. "Next thing she tells me that she cares for me," he muttered, but he couldn't suppress the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

He rang the bell and straightened his posture when he heard the familiar voice. "Come in."

"Good evening, T'Pol. I'm sorry that I missed our last appointments."

T'Pol raised one eyebrow. "You were in a coma, Commander."

Trip sighed. Every time he tried to tease the Vulcan, she showed him up like a silly young boy. He bit his lip not knowing what to answer. He couldn't say "Hey, T'Pol, I heard you sat at my bedside. What am I supposed to make of this?"

T'Pol regarded him attentively. "Please, sit down, Commander, and take your shirt off."

Trip nodded, glad that he didn't have to answer.

T'Pol sat down behind him, starting the neuropressure. Trip closed his eyes, enjoying the relaxing feeling. Breathing deeply and evenly, he felt the day's tension subside.

"Have you experienced any nightmares since you woke up from the coma, Commander?" T'Pol asked.

"No." Trip shook his head. "I haven't slept very well but not because of any nightmares."

"You're troubled because of Sim."

"Yeah." Trip sighed. "It's not a very reassurin' feelin' when you wake up and find out that you have been cloned."

"I see what you mean."

"What did you think about it?" Trip suppressed the urge to turn around and look into T'Pol's eyes. "Did the cap'n ask you for your opinion?"

"Actually, he didn't ask. But I told him what I thought about the procedure."

"And? What was your advice?" Trip tried hard not to show his amusement. He knew that the answer to this question was very difficult for T'Pol. He was sure that she had told the captain a lot about ethical consequences.

"I told him that the Lyssarian Prime Conclave banned the use of Lyssarian larvae for cloning."

"What?" Trip quickly turned around, causing T'Pol's hands to slip off his back. "Lyssarian larvae? What's that?"

"That's the creature Sim used to be," T'Pol explained calmly. "Like I said, it's forbidden to use these creatures for cloning."

"So you would have preferred to let me die?" Trip was curious how T'Pol's logical mind would solve this problem.

T'Pol pressed against his shoulders and he had no choice but to turn his back to her again. She continued the neuropressure and Trip thought she would simply ignore his question.

"I'm glad that you are alive, Commander," she said eventually. "And I'm glad that Sim survived."

"But you don't want to join us on the away mission."

The hands on his back paused for a split second. T'Pol's voice betrayed no emotion when she answered. "As I told the captain it is not necessary to assign a science officer to the mission when two engineers are already part of it. You won't need my expertise to download a database."

"If I didn't know better, T'Pol, I would say you have prejudices against Sim. That you don't feel comfortable around him because he's a clone."

"I assure you, Commander, that I don't experience any preconceptions against Sim. And it is not true that I feel uncomfortable in his presence because he is a clone. Actually, working with him was very agreeable." T'Pol got up. "We're done, Commander. You may put on your shirt."

"Thanks a lot, T'Pol. That was great."

T'Pol inclined her head. "You're welcome, Commander."

* * *

 

Quietly, Trip opened the door to his quarters. Sim had been experiencing a slight headache in the evening and had been planning to go to bed early. Trip smiled when he saw him lying on his cot. The blanket had slipped down and gently, Trip put it back in place. He felt awfully tired and decided to skip the washing procedure for once. His eyes almost fell shut when he slipped out of his pants and shirt. Yawning, he lay down and, relishing the sleepy feeling, he relaxed and looked forward to a good night's sleep.

"No! Get outta here! Hurry! Don't stay there! Get out!"

Trip startled. What the hell…

"Please!" Sobs came from the other side of the room. "Please, no!"

Trip flinched when realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Sim was experiencing the same nightmares he had had. Of course he did. Trip switched on the lights and rushed out of his bed and to his friend's side. Sim's face was wet with tears and he tossed and turned in agony, but didn't wake up.

"Sim!" Trip tried to catch Sim's shoulders. "Sim! Wake up! It's a nightmare. Sim!" He shook his shoulders until Sim opened his eyes and looked at Trip with a confused expression. "A nightmare?" he asked, his voice hoarse and choked with tears.

Trip nodded, swallowing hard. He felt tears running down his own face. "I'm so sorry, Sim," he whispered, pulling Sim into his arms. "I didn't think about it. Not even for a second. I went to see T'Pol for neuropressure and didn't think even for a moment that you might experience the same nightmares. You should have accompanied me."

Sim laid his head on Trip's shoulder. "It's okay, Trip," he sighed. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." Trip pulled Sim even closer. "I'm so sorry. I know that you are I but I didn't think about the consequences."

Sim didn't answer, but Trip could feel him relax. He patted his shoulder. Those nightmares were always awful and he was very grateful that T'Pol was willing to help him. But now Sim was experiencing the very same nightmares about Lizzie, and Trip cursed himself for not thinking of this possibility.

Sim let go of him, running his hand over his face. "I'm okay, Trip. Really."

"Hey," Trip said gently, handing Sim a Kleenex. "Who do you think you're tryin' to fool?"

Sim sniffed and wiped his eyes. Then he sighed and smiled faintly. They looked into each other's eyes. Neither of them could speak about the nightmares, about Lizzie and their mourning for her death, but simply by knowing that the other one felt the same, they both felt strangely reassured.

"You go and see T'Pol tomorrow. I'm sure she won't mind giving you neuropressure as well," Trip suggested.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, 'course I do."

"She doesn't feel very comfortable around me."

"That's nonsense, Sim. I asked her and she told me that she has no preconceptions and doesn't feel uncomfortable around you."

"Did she actually say that?"

"More or less. Her words were something like 'It is not true that I feel uncomfortable in Sim's presence because he is a clone'." Trip tried to copy T'Pol's clipped way of speaking and actually made Sim smile.

"I know," Sim said. "She feels uncomfortable in my presence because she kissed me."

"She…what?" Trip startled. "Say that again."

"She feels uncomfortable …"

"Skip that part." Trip cut him short. "Repeat the end of the sentence."

"… because she kissed me."

"You kissed T'Pol?" Trip tried hard to regain his composure.

"No! She kissed me."

Trip opened his mouth and closed it again, staring at Sim in disbelief. "T'Pol kissed you?"

Sim grinned. "Jealous?"

"No!" Determinedly, Trip shook his head. "No. I'm not jealous. Why should I be?"

Sim grinned even more. "Hey. And now who do _you_ think you're tryin' to fool? I know better."

Trip only grimaced.

"Look. She thought I was going to die. It was just a good-bye kiss."

Trip snorted. "I can't believe it. Our emotionless Vulcan lady kissed you. I just wonder…" He trailed off.

"You wonder whether she kissed me because she's attracted to you or whether she likes me, Sim." Sim looked at Trip, but when he didn't answer, he continued: "I have the same problem. I don't know whether I like T'Pol because you are attracted to her or whether the feelings for her are my own."

"I'm not attracted…" Trip tried to defend himself, but stopped. Sim was right, he knew even about the things Trip didn't dare to admit to himself. "It must be difficult for you," he said instead of finishing his sentence. "You can never be sure whether you experience your own feelings or mine."

"Yeah, sometimes it drives me crazy," Sim admitted. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them lost in his own thoughts. "What're you goin' to do about T'Pol?" Sim suddenly broke the silence.

"I can't do anythin'." Trip shrugged. "I can't just go to her and say: hey T'Pol, you kissed Sim. What about me?"

Sim chuckled. "But you can tell her that you like her."

"I think she knows."

"Yeah, but you keep denyin' it to yourself. I even think you would deny it if she told you that you're attracted to her." Sim snorted. "You wouldn't lose face if you admitted it. It's not so difficult."

"Why? Why is it difficult for me, but not for you? I thought you had the same feelings, why don't you feel as self-conscious as I do?"

Sim bit his lip. "Your views of life change when you know you're goin' to die soon, Trip. You realize what kind of things are important. And that is not a properly functionin' warpcore." Sim reconsidered. "Okay, actually, it is. But telling people what they mean to you is more important."

"It sounds so simple."

"It is, Trip."

Trip shook his head. "I have no problems tellin' Malcolm or Jon that I like them, or Hoshi, but not T'Pol."

"Okay." Sim grinned. "Then I have your permission to take my chances?"

Trip's mouth fell open. "No, you don't!"

Sim laughed and got settled on his cot. "I think we should let T'Pol decide about this. Good night, Trip."

Trip patted his shoulder. "Night." He sighed. Despite the relaxing effects of the neuropressure it was going to be another sleepless night. He had too much to think about.


	5. Chapter 5

Trip leaned his head against the bulkhead, closed his eyes for a moment and let out an inaudible sigh. As he had expected, the night hadn't been particularly refreshing. Various thoughts still troubled his mind and made him dizzy, thoughts about love and life in general and T'Pol in particular.

Sighing once again, Trip decided to postpone his broodings and to concentrate on the mission. Smiling, he looked at Sim who was piloting the shuttlepod through space as if he had done it a hundred times before. Actually, Sim had the same experience flying a shuttlepod as Trip had, and Trip had to remind himself of this fact every time he felt the urge to check the controls. He knew he could trust Sim.

It had been a simple decision to leave the helm to Sim. Trip still felt tired and Malcolm was content to sit in the second row. Besides, Trip knew how much it meant to Sim to pilot the shuttle himself, to work the controls with his own hands and not only remember doing so.

They were waiting in the planet's outer atmosphere for the interferences to subside. T'Pol had warned them stringently not to fly too close to the layer of distortions that would shut down all electronic devices. But the window that was to open would be stable for only a few minutes and so it was very important to be in its range when it appeared.

Sim tapped away on the console, checking the readings at the same time. "Three more minutes to go," he announced. "I'm goin' to approach the coordinates now."

They arrived just in time and slipped through the narrow corridor without incidents. Only some small hisses were heard from the relays.

"Well done, Sim," Malcolm praised and got up to have a look out of the window. "So, let's see what's waiting for us down there. Do you have the coordinates of the Xindi vessel?"

Sim gave Maloclm a lopsided grin. "Yeah, I have them right here on the navigation computer, where T'Pol sent them to."

Approaching the surface, they realized that the crashed vessel lay in the middle of a huge forest that covered an area that stretched far beyond the horizon.

"Great," Trip muttered under his breath. "Looks like we're in for a good walk."

"Doesn't matter." Sim all but smirked. "Makes your head clear. Can you search for a landin' site?"

Trip had already busied himself with the scanner. "There's a clearin' about three kilometers east of the vessel. We'd only have to cross a river."

"A river?" Malcolm asked, startled.

"Yeah." Trip turned around, looking at his friend in surprise. "You don't mind gettin' a little wet, do you?"

Malcolm grimaced. "It's not about getting wet," he grumbled.

"Well, what is it about then?" Trip raised his eyebrows.

"Isn't there another landing site from which we can approach the Xindi craft without having to cross a river?" Malcolm asked instead of giving an answer.

"Yes, there is," Trip confirmed, biting his lip when he saw Malcolm relax at his words. "But it is about twelve kilometers away."

"Shit," Malcolm cursed. "We don't have the time to cut us through twelve kilometers of bushes and trees." He swallowed. "Guess it has to be that bloody river, then."

Trip saw Malcolm's hands tremble slightly and shot his friend an inquiring glance. But Malcolm ignored him, looking out of the window instead and faking interest in the forest below. When he got a look at the broad stream that cut the forest in two, he visibly paled.

"It's about two hundred meters wide," Sim told them. "Not that big a problem."

Malcolm nodded, but Trip could see him swallow. He wondered what Malcolm was afraid of. Couldn't be a little bit of water, could it?

In an elegant curve, Sim landed the shuttlepod on the clearing and shut down the thrusters. Trip nodded approvingly, which made Sim smile.

"Okay, what are we going to take with us?" Malcolm asked, pulling out a backpack from under the seat.

"I don't think we should take too much," Trip said. "We don't have that much time. The next window opens in about five hours and we don't know when another window will appear."

"Five hours should be enough time to finish the job." Sim stretched. "From what I've seen the terrain doesn't look very difficult. But I agree, we shouldn't take too much with us. I don't think we'll need much."

Malcolm looked from Trip to Sim and smiled wryly. Of course they shared the same opinion. He put the medkit into the backpack, as well as some nutrient bars and a few bottles of water while Trip and Sim made sure that the toolkit contained all of the required tools, before they stowed it away in the backpack as well.

Trip took the backpack and opened the hatch, squinting against the bright sunlight. Sticky, humid air surrounded them. Birds were chirping in the trees and swarms of insects bore down on them in a matter of seconds, taking their chances when they saw fresh sources of blood arrive.

Malcolm squashed an insect that had managed to sting him straight through his uniform. Brushing away its body, he saw a small spot of blood. "Lovely," he muttered.

"Looks like now is the perfect time to use the lotion Phlox gave us." Trip rummaged in the backpack and offered Malcolm a small tube. "Apply this to your face and hands. It should drive away the insects."

Malcolm squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers, held them in front of his nose and pulled a face. "No doubt," he commented. "This smell would drive away anyone."

Trip grimaced as they applied the liquid to their faces, but looking at the size of the insects that were buzzing through the air, he decided that it was better to smell like they hadn't washed themselves in over a year than to serve as a human pin-cushion.

"Okay, let's go then," Sim said.

Trip took the lead. They crossed the clearing and entered the forest. At once the air got cooler and the light that filtered through the foliage was much more agreeable than the bright sunshine outside. The trees were about six or seven meters high and their leaves were such a dark green that they appeared to be black. The whole ground was covered with leaves and rotten roots and a lot of vines that were growing everywhere, as if they had been put there to make them stumble. For a short moment Trip was sure that some of the vines were moving, crawling over the ground like snakes, but after he had blinked a few times to clear his vision, they lay perfectly still. Trip shook his head, thinking back to the unpleasant experience he had had with the pollen on their very first alien planet. Had T'Pol mentioned anything about the air on this planet and whether it could contain some contaminants?

"It's beautiful here," Sim murmured in awe behind him, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Look at these flowers."

Trip nodded, glancing at what looked like purple and blue corn poppies, standing in groups everywhere in between the trees, each of them nearly a meter high. "Seems like everything here is a little bit oversized," he stated. "It makes me think of the dinosaurs you mentioned."

Sim chuckled. "You heard T'Pol. The away team is capable enough to deal even with dinosaurs."

"Let's hope so." Trip took a knife to cut through some climbers that blocked their way.

Sim helped him. "That's weird," he said. "Looks like these climbers are weavin' a net between the trees."

"Yeah, and they're very resilient." Trip yanked at the plants with all his strength and finally they gave way, causing Trip to stumble backwards straight into Malcolm's arms.

"Be careful, Commander," Malcolm chuckled, but Trip could feel how tense his friend's muscles were.

"Hey, that would be your job anyhow," Trip accused him jokingly. "You're the security officer, you should be the one doing the work here."

"Yes, you're right." Malcolm took the knife out of Trip's hand and brushed past him.

"Hey Mal, that was a joke." Trip ran his hand through his hair. "Come on, what's the matter with you? Relax. There's not a single dinosaur on the scanner and the insects don't seem to like your smell."

With grim determination Malcolm began to cut through the climbers, tearing small branches from bushes and trees so they could make their way through the thicket. "I just want to be finished with this," he muttered, barely audible, but both Trip and Sim noticed the frustrated tone in his voice and looked at each other in surprise.

After walking in silence for a few minutes, Sim took the scanner and checked the readings. "We're approachin' the water," he told his friends.

"I wouldn't mind a break." Trip stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Since he had been raised in Florida, he was used to humid air, but here it was so dense that he actually felt like he had to cut through it.

"Me, too," Sim said. "But I don't think Malcolm agrees with us."

Trip watched Malcolm, who was still busy forcing a way through the forest. Shrugging, he followed, Sim at his heels. The terrain started getting easier.

The river's low murmur had been audible for some minutes by now, and they could see the silver band of water shimmering through the trees. Soon, they stood at the bank, facing a slight slope covered with reeds and grass descending to the water. The river was flowing slowly and steadily and looked very peaceful.

"Which do you think would be better?" Sim asked. "Take our clothes off or walk through the water fully dressed?"

"My uniform is soaked with sweat," Trip answered. "Wouldn't make sense to take it off."

Trip saw Malcolm shiver, and frowned. It was hotter than summer in hell down here, so there had to be something other than cold that made Malcolm tremble. Gently, he put his hand on Malcolm's arm. "What is it, Malcolm? Anythin' on your mind?"

Malcolm swallowed and for a moment it seemed that he wouldn't answer, but then, after moistening his lips, he said in a low voice. "I'm afraid of the water."

"You're what?" Sim and Trip called out. They looked at each other, then at Malcolm who stared at them provokingly, although he blushed slightly.

"Malcolm," Sim said in a reassuring tone of voice. "This river isn't deep. We can wade through it."

Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not so easy, Sim. It's aquaphobia. I start to panic when I have to go into the water, no matter how deep it is. And as embarrassing as it is, I can't do anything about it."

Trip laid his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "Hey, we all are afraid of somethin'. It isn't that big a thing." The sparkle returned into Trip's eyes. "For me it's very reassurin' to know that even the dauntless Malcolm Reed has his weak point."

The slightest of smiles appeared on Malcolm's lips, but he didn't answer Trip's joke.

Sim had taken a scanner out of his pocket. "The water's 1.20 to 1.40 meters deep in most places, at least. But I'm afraid that in the middle we'll have to swim a few meters. Do you think you manage?" He paused. "Can you swim?"

"Yes, of course I can swim," Malcolm said with an expression on his face that told Sim and Trip that there was more to it.

"Come on," Trip said reassuringly. "We'll take care of you. We won't let you drown." He grinned lopsidedly when Malcolm shot him a half reproachful, half guilty look.

Sim chuckled. "Now at least we know why you didn't follow the family tradition and join the Navy."

"My great-uncle did," Malcolm said, still staring at the sparkling water. "He suffered from aquaphobia, too, but it didn't prevent him from doing his duty."

"Explorin' deep space isn't a desk job, either," Sim said. "I'm sure your family is proud of you, regardless whether you joined the Navy or Starfleet."

Malcolm didn't look very convinced, but he carefully started to descend the slope. Sim held Trip back as he was going to follow Malcolm. "Give me the backpack. You stay with Malcolm."

Trip wanted to object, but he knew Sim was right. Malcolm trusted him more, for he had been his friend much longer than Sim had been, regardless of whether Sim was a perfect copy of Trip or not. So he handed Sim the backpack and slid down the slope.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, the water was warm. Trip grimaced in disappointment. "Guess we have to postpone the refreshment," he told the others. "It's like a bath tub."

Sim nodded, looking at his scanner. "The water has a temperature of 35 degrees Celsius. I never encountered a river with such warm water." He shot Trip an annoyed glance, telling the engineer that he didn't have to voice his thoughts about Sim never having encountered even a normal river.

"Perhaps it's fed by subterraneous warm springs," Malcolm, who wasn't aware of their silent dialogue, offered. "Or it flows subterraneously for some time and is heated by geothermal sources." His eyes traced the stream as if he could detect a place where the river appeared from under the ground, and where they would be able to go on without having to cross the water.

"Come on, Mal." Trip patted his friend's shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

Malcolm closed his eyes and made his first step into the warm water, which became deeper with every step. Soon they stood up to their waist in the river. Trip held himself ready to lend Malcolm a helping hand but the armory officer refused it. He had his eyes firmly fixed on the other bank.

They had to walk carefully. The ground was uneven and covered with rotten roots and vines that tugged at their feet and caused them to stumble more than once. Trip and Sim really would have preferred to swim than to walk once the water reached their chest but they didn't do it, not wanting to hurt Malcolm's feelings. Sim had to hold the backpack over his head which didn't look like a comfortable way to carry it, but he didn't complain.

Suddenly Trip's right leg got caught in a root and he was sure that a vine was winding itself around his leg and was trying to pull him down. For a moment he felt panic rise in his throat, the same panic Malcolm must be feeling the whole time. Trip tried to breathe evenly and to think clearly. There were only dead plants beneath him, drowned by the water a long time ago. With his left foot he stamped down the vine and broke loose. Neither Sim nor Malcolm had noticed that he had stopped and Trip was glad they hadn't.

"So how did you learn to swim?" Sim asked. "It must have been hard, bein' afraid of the water."

Trip knew he was trying to distract Malcolm, but wasn't so sure whether it was the right topic to do so. But Malcolm actually started to relax a little while he was speaking.

"My parents had a cabin at a lake and we used to spend all our weekends there. Actually, I loved playing in the water. At least as long as I could stay at its outer fringes. My favorite game was to spatter water on Madeleine. But she knew how to escape me very easily. She could swim when she was three years old and I couldn't do so at the age of five. I didn't dare to go deeper into the water than up to my knees. More than once, my father let me know how disgusted he was by my cowardly behavior, but my mother told him to be patient. She often tried to pull me into deeper water and as long as she held me it was okay. But when she tried to let go of me I clung to her and began to cry." Malcolm shrugged. "Not the image my father had of a fine Navy officer."

Sim grinned. "You can't force your children to follow all your ideas." He stowed the scanner away in the backpack. "Okay, folks, it's goin' to get deeper. It's only for a distance of about twenty meters. Just watch out, I've detected a ravine a few meters ahead on our right side. Be sure not to stumble in it." He turned onto his back and started backstroking, using only his legs to do so, holding the backpack on his chest so it wouldn't get too wet.

Malcolm had stopped, and looked at Sim who easily crossed the distance.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Trip asked in a low voice. "If you want you can hold on to me."

Malcolm shook his head. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he declared firmly, trying to convince himself more than Trip. "Let's go."

Trip stayed at Malcolm's side, ready to help his friend if needed. But Malcolm did a good job, although he kept his eyes tightly shut and his arms were slightly shaking. Trip could hear him breathing in ragged gasps and felt admiration for his friend's control. He was sure he wouldn't be able to keep such a tight grip on himself if he were in Malcolm's place. Relieved, he felt solid ground under his feet again only after a few strokes. With a short whistle he drew Malcolm's attention and signaled to him that he could stand again.

Malcolm visibly relaxed. Letting out his breath, he turned around. "I can't believe that I really did it," he muttered under his breath.

"You actually did quite well," Sim said. "I thought you would swim like a rubber duck in a bath tub."

Trip splashed some water into Sim's face. "Look at yourself. It's actually the first time you've been swimmin'."

Sim grinned, deciding not to react to Trip's bantering. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. The warm water made him feel like he was sitting in a cooking pot. "Let's go before we're done. I want to get out of this."

"Join the club." Malcolm heaved a sigh and walked forward.

"Your story wasn't finished yet," Trip reminded him.

"Yes, you're right." Malcolm was lost in thought for a moment. "My father had a sailing boat at this lake and although I didn't like going into the water, I loved to go sailing with my father. I used to duck into the bow, press my ear on the planks and listen to the murmurs of the waves that swashed against the boat. In those minutes I thought that water wasn't so bad at all and sometimes I decided to learn how to swim. But I never did. I was too afraid. One Saturday Madeleine felt sick and my mother stayed with her in the cabin. I enjoyed the day alone with my father on our sailboat, but when we were on our way back and about five hundred meters away from the berth, my father told me that it was time that I learned how to swim. He grabbed me and threw me overboard."

Trip and Sim stopped in their tracks. "He did what?"

"I wore a lifejacket, so I guess he thought it wouldn't be dangerous."

"He should have known better." Trip pressed his lips together. "How old were you at the time?"

"Six. And my father thought it was a shame that I couldn't swim at the age of six."

"Bullshit," Sim commented.

"And what happened then?" Trip asked.

"For a moment I just lay dead in the water like the rubber duck Sim mentioned before. I was in shock and it took me a while to realize what my father had done. But then I started to kick and splash and cry. I pleaded with my father to take me on board again, but he refused. He said that he had shown me often enough how to swim and it was time for me to prove that I had learned my lesson. He told me again how to use my arms and legs, but I didn't listen to him. I panicked. Despite the lifejacket, I ducked under several times and I swallowed lots of water."

They had reached the other side of the river, but Sim and Trip just stood and looked at Malcolm, eagerly awaiting the rest of his story. The water was still thigh deep but there was no slope on this side, so Malcolm heaved himself out of the water and walked a few steps ahead until he reached dry ground again. Sim and Trip had no choice but to follow him.

"And then?" Sim urged.

Malcolm leaned against a tree. "My father waited until I had calmed down again. At least he thought that I had calmed down. Actually, I simply had no strength left to struggle. My father tried to teach me how to swim, but I desperately tried to get back onto the boat again. But he wouldn't let me. Eventually, he told me he would wait for me at the berth. And then he sailed along."

Trip stared at his friend in dismay. "He left you in the water? He left a six-year-old boy who couldn't swim half a kilometer away from the bank?"

"What did you do?" Sim asked.

Malcolm shrugged. "I learned how to swim."

Sim shook his head. "I can't understand your father. Wasn't he afraid that you would drown? He must have known that wearin' a lifejacket is no assurance against drownin'?"

Malcolm shrugged once more. "I don't know. And I didn't care. It took me more than an hour to reach the bank. You can't actually call it swimming what I did, I simply struggled against the water, trying to stay alive and hold my head up so I wouldn't swallow more water. It was the worst hour in my entire life. I thought I would never be able to reach the bank and I became sick from fear. I threw up all the water I had swallowed. I didn't like the water before, but from that day I definetely hated it."

"Who wouldn't," Sim muttered.

"My father said he was proud of me, and that it was important to learn how to overcome one's fears. He said these qualities would be crucial if I wanted to join the Navy." Malcolm smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "That was the moment I decided that I would never join the Navy. Of course I didn't tell my father about this decision then. I only stumbled to bed and wished that I would never see water, or my father for that matter, ever again."

Simultaneously, Sim and Trip laid their hands on Malcolm's shoulders. "I can't even try to imagine how afraid you must have been," Trip said gently. "Bein' all alone in the water at the age of six would have been horrible enough even if you could swim. It's not surprisin' that you developed aquaphobia. Heck, anyone would have."

Malcolm nodded. He still felt uncomfortable about Trip and Sim knowing about his phobia now, although they had reacted very understandingly. Malcolm looked back. He couldn't deny that he felt a little proud that he had managed to cross the river without panicking. Perhaps there still was hope. At least for the way back.


	6. Chapter 6

Silently, they covered the rest of the distance. It didn't take them more than half an hour to walk the two kilometers to the crashed Xindi craft, but they all were beginning to have problems with the humid air. Sim was looking pale and Trip was starting to worry about him. Although Sim's mind remembered the air in Florida, his body didn't. He had lived his whole life in the artificial atmosphere of Enterprise and wasn't used to the damp surroundings. And up to now he had never had to walk such a long distance, regardless of his memories of training and missions. Trip snorted inwardly. Sim remembered the hikes Trip had undertaken in his youth and the football matches during which Trip had been running across the field until he had been out of breath and panting, he also remembered the strenuous Starfleet training where he had to walk long distances in difficult terrain, but Sim's legs hadn't done any of this. They had only walked along the corridors of Enterprise and had probably never really run before. Trip cursed himself for not thinking of this before.

"What's up?" Trip startled when Sim addressed him.

"Nothin'. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe because I know you?" Sim chuckled. "I know that expression, Trip. You were thinkin' about somethin' troublin'. 'Bout me maybe?"

"Nope." Trip said. "Why don't you give me the backpack? You've carried it long enough."

Sim grinned. "So you were thinkin' about me. Don't worry, I'm okay."

"You're not used to this kind of exertion, Sim. Rememberin' somethin' and actually doin' it aren't quite the same thing'"

"That's right, but I'm fine. And besides, you and Malcolm seem to be sweatin' as well." He smiled a little. "I'm okay, Trip, really. No need to mollycoddle me."

Trip thought about it, then nodded in defeat. "'Kay."

Malcolm, who had already been a few steps ahead, waited for them. "I think we're there. Have a look over here."

Sim whistled through his teeth when he spotted the remains of the vessel lying under a group of trees about thirty meters to the right. "It's only the rear section."

Trip's eyes widened. The vessel had been torn apart when it was crashing through the trees and it looked as if a giant had ripped it into pieces. He looked around. "Where's the front section?"

"There it is." Malcolm pointed to the opposite direction, up to the tree tops. When Sim and Trip looked up, they could see a very shattered shuttlefront hanging in the trees.

"Ouch!" Trip bit his lip. "You think the crew could have survived this?"

"Let's find out." Sim took the scanner. "No lifesigns."

"Of course not." With his hand, Malcolm protected his eyes against the sunlight as he looked up. "I don't think they would stay there."

"An injured crew might not have another choice but to wait for rescue," Trip took Sim's side. "It's also possible that we'll find their corpses. Does anyone have an idea which Xindi species the vessel is from?"

Malcolm pursed his lips. "It's difficult to say, but I think it looks like the vessel the humanoid Xindi arrived with on the planet where the kemocite was processed, although it is a lot smaller. I doubt that more than two people could fit in there."

"I agree," Sim said with a disappointed grimace. "You really think this could be a military vessel?"

"I don't know. Let's have a look at the database." Trip turned around. "Let's begin with the rear section. Perhaps we'll find what we're lookin' for without havin' to climb up the trees."

* * *

 

Standing in front of the rear section, Trip glanced at Sim, knowing perfectly well what his double was thinking. Sim nodded. "Won't be easy."

This part of the shuttle had formerly been approximately two and a half meters in height. However, it had been compressed by the impact to a height of one and a half meters at the most. Broken beams and shattered rods were blocking their way into the ship. Frowning, Trip opened the backpack to get out a plasma torch.

"Be careful," Malcolm advised. "The wreck doesn't look very stable."

Trip looked at the broken bulkheads. They made the remains of the vessel look like the dented tin cans he used to kick along the streets of his hometown.

"Perhaps we should support the bulkheads somehow?" Sim suggested. He pointed at one beam. "If we cut this loose we could use it as a support for the ceiling."

"Do you really think that's necessary?" Trip asked. "I only want to crawl inside and have a look at that instrument array in the rear."

A dangerously creaking sound, however, made him change his mind very quickly. "Okay, let's get to work on the beam."

With their united efforts they managed to stabilize the vessel's roof. Then Trip worked his way inside the ship. Dust covered the floor, as well as a slimy substance that smelled like old oil, and there were torn circuits hanging down from every bulkhead. Trip checked them to see whether they still carried electricity. It was quite improbable, but Trip didn't want to take the risk of ending up as fried engineer. Using the plasma torch, he cut through a few rods in order to be able to get into the rear end. The torch only made the already oppressive air warmer, and the dust he was stirring up started making him cough. Being forced to crouch down on the ground and to work with his arms raised above his head most of the time didn't make his job easier. Wearily, he ran his hand over his face.

"How are things going?" Malcolm asked from outside.

"I'm finished here. Should be possible to get through by now."

"Okay, let me do the rest of the job," Sim said. "You come out and rest for a while."

Trip didn't object. He crawled backwards, taking care so that he wouldn't get speared by the broken rods jutting from the bulkheads.

Sim offered him a bottle of water, grinning at Trip's dusty appearance.

Malcolm smiled as well. "I guess it's a good thing that we have to go back through the water," he joked.

"That bad?" Trip asked, running his hand over his face once more and smearing mud and dust all over it.

"Doesn't matter." Sim patted Trip's shoulder. "Anythin' interestin' in there?"

"I can't tell. It looks more like an exploration vessel than a military one. Most of the equipment is shattered beyond recognition. I don't think anythin' is workin'."

"I'll have a look all the same," Sim decided.

Trip and Malcolm watched as he got to his knees and crawled inside the pod.

"It's amazing," Malcolm said. "He moves exactly like you do."

Trip nodded, taking another big gulp of water. "What did you expect? He's my clone, a perfect copy of me."

Malcolm pursed his lips. "Not so perfect a copy, I think. He's developing a personality of his own."

"He's had different experiences influencing him. He thought he would die, and being still alive is a gift that changed him." Trip smiled. "But you're right, he moves in exactly the same way I do. It's very interestin' for me to simply watch him."

"I can imagine." With an inquiring glance, Malcolm looked at the bottle of water and Trip handed it over to him. "I think you can learn a lot about yourself by doing so."

"Yeah." Trip looked down at his hands. "It was awkward at first, but I'm gettin' used to it. But I have to admit I was scared as hell when I woke up from the coma and found that I'd been replaced by a clone."

Malcolm put down the bottle. "You think Sim was created to replace you? You're absolutely wrong, Trip. The only purpose of cloning you was to save you."

"Yes, I know," Trip said softly. "But…"

"But it is not easy to accept that you could have been replaced so easily," Malcolm guessed. He looked at Trip. "I can assure you that would never have been the case. You would have been painfully missed. Not only by your engineering crew but also by your friends.

"Thanks, Mal." Trip smiled sadly. "I heard that you visited me."

"Whenever I could, Trip. I could never bring myself to believe that you were going to die. I never dared to think about what life on Enterprise would be without you. Sim is a nice person and I'm sure he is a good friend as well, but he would never have been able to replace you. Because Mr. Tucker, although you have been cloned, you're unique."

Trip smiled, but didn't get a chance to answer because Sim crawled back out of the wreck. "You were right, Trip, I couldn't find any useful information there."

"So we still have to do the climbin' thing," Trip said less than enthusiastically.

"I can do it, if you want," Malcolm offered.

"Nah, you're the security officer, you have to take care that the corn poppies won't attack us." With raised eyebrows, Malcolm looked at him and Trip smiled. "Thanks for your offer, Malcolm, but it is my job to look for the database."

"Or mine," Sim said.

"You've done your share already, Sim. The rest's up to me."

Sim patted Trip's shoulder. "C'mon, Trip, it's not that you don't like climbing trees. We spent more time in the trees in our garden than at our desk."

Trip laughed out loud, causing Malcolm to raise his eyebrows. "Instead of doin' my homework I used to sneak out the window and climb down the old oak tree that stood there," Trip explained. "It was the perfect way to get out unnoticed. It really worked, although I always had the distinct feelin' that my mother knew what I was doin'. But as long as I did well in school, she didn't say anythin'." He sobered up. "Sim is right, I'm pretty good at climbing trees." Trip frowned. Truth be told, every time he looked up at the Xindi vessel looming overhead, he got a nasty feeling.

* * *

 

It was ridiculously easy to climb up the tree. There were so many branches that it was like going up a step ladder. The only tricky thing was to get into the shuttle itself. Its torn opening stuck about half a meter into the air and he had to lean out over open air for a moment in order to reach it. He lost his footing and for an eternal second he thought he would fall. Heart racing, he heard the scared calls from his friends and hurried to assure them that he was okay. Trip swallowed. Falling six meters to the ground wouldn't be an ideal way to finish the job. He had to be careful.

Although from below the vessel had looked fairly stable, Trip could now see that it was perilously perched in the fork of two branches. Malcolm had suggested that they somehow secure the vessel, but they hadn't been able to come up with a way of doing so. Trip now wished that they'd taken more time with the idea. He could tell that the ship's weight was bearing down on the branches supporting it, and he just didn't know what the vessel would do if he added his weight to the strain. He calculated the risk and decided that he might be all right if he was careful. He grasped a beam that protruded from the opening and pulled slightly. The beam was stable and the vessel didn't move. So Trip got a good hold on the beam, reached for the vessel's edge and pushed himself off the branch on which he was standing. With an elegant turn he hauled himself inside the small craft, sighing in relief when he realized that he had managed to do so without hurting himself on the jagged edges.

"I'm in," he called loud enough so that Sim and Malcolm could hear him, "and it looks good."

Trip nodded in approval when he looked around the alien shuttlepod. The machinery wasn't as damaged as the ones in the rear section.

Looking around the cramped space, Trip was relieved that there were no alien corpses sitting in the seats. He assumed that the crew had been rescued by another ship. Trip sat down, studying the alien devices. As far as he could tell most of them had short-circuited, and some of the relays were melted and burned out, but Trip was confident that he could bring the computer to life again. He rummaged in his pockets where he had stuffed away all the tools he might need.

Trip turned until he could look down to where Sim and Malcolm were standing on the ground below him. "This could take a while," he reported. "Just go and sit somewhere under the trees. I'll call you if I need some help."

At their answering nod, he returned to work. "Okay," he muttered to the computer. "Let's see if you're goin' to reveal your secrets."

Trip loved tampering with alien computers. Soon he had forgotten about where he was working and began to shift around carelessly. Suddenly, however, he froze when the vessel gave a squeaking sound and a tremor ran through it. The craft wavered only slightly, but it was definitely loosing its hold on the trees. Trip inhaled sharply. He had to remember that it was only the fork of two branches holding the craft in place and he had to move with caution.

"Trip?" he heard Malcolm's voice. "Is everything okay? I thought the vessel was moving."

"I'm fine," Trip shouted. "Don't worry, I'm nearly done. I've got access to the database."

Trip started the download onto a padd. He couldn't make anything out of the data, but supposed that Hoshi would be able to figure it out. He only hoped the data would be helpful in their case. It took him some time to bypass the security program, but finally Trip had free access. With a confident smirk he stowed the padd in his arm pocket. He'd just started to disconnect the power source when the vessel suddenly tilted backwards and Trip lost his footing. Falling on the floor, he heard a menacing groan from the bulkheads. Then he heard a branch snap.

 _Forget about the power source_ , Trip thought. _Get out!_ He scrambled to his feet, the movement making the shuttle tilt even more.

"Trip! Get outta there! The vessel's comin' down." Sim's voice was full of fear and Trip doubled his efforts. Briefly, he thought about his escape route. If he tried to climb down the tree the vessel would fall right on his head. It would be better to climb up even farther and to wait until the vessel had crashed down.

He was almost to the exit when he heard more branches break. Almost at once the craft crashed about thirty centimeters downwards, sending Trip to the floor again. Gaining speed, he slid towards the edge, desperately trying to get hold of something to stop his fall, but he only managed to cut his palm on a sharp rail. He could hear his friends shout in alarm, but he couldn't understand their words. He felt his legs going over the edge and knew it was inevitable that he would fall six meters down to the ground. His last thought was that Sim would take good care of his engines back on Enterprise.


	7. Chapter 7

He landed on his back, hard. A jolt of pain shot through his spine and for a moment Trip thought that every single bone in his body was broken. The impact had driven all of the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't move. Trip gasped. Again he heard Sim yell "Trip! Get outta there!", but he couldn't fathom whether the other man was shouting the same sentence again or whether his brain was replaying the last words he had heard. But then his vision cleared and he saw what was frightening his friends. The vessel was hanging above him like a sword of Damocles and in a few seconds would come crashing down on him. Desperately, Trip tried to move, to push himself away from the place where he knew the vessel would hit the ground, but his body still felt numb. Suddenly he felt someone grab him under the armpits and drag him along. Using his legs, Trip tried to help, but suddenly he knew without a shade of doubt that the shuttle wouldn't wait until he was far enough away.

Trip's eyes widened when he saw the vessel come loose and fall down with an unbelievable speed, a speed he couldn't possibly escape. It shattered on the ground with a sickening clatter and Trip could hear someone cry out.

* * *

 

"Hey Trip, wake up." Trip felt a hand on his wrist, and he slowly realized that someone was checking his pulse. "Open your eyes, Commander. I know that you're not dead."

Trip could hear Sim's agitated voice and slowly opened his eyes to see what was wrong. Sim's face was contorted with fear. Trip tried to put a confident tone into his voice. "Hey, Sim, what's…" He stopped dead when he saw the bulkhead of the crashed vessel. It was directly in front of his eyes. Trip didn't need to lift his head to know that it had come down right on his legs. He felt a shiver run through his body.

"What's wrong?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Are you in pain?" Sim asked softly.

"No, I don't feel anythin'."

Trip didn't see the shock on Sim's face, his eyes were still fixed on the torn vessel that had him pinned to the ground. "D'you think my legs are broken?" Trip swallowed. "I would feel more pain if they were broken, wouldn't I? But I don't feel much'." Trip desperately wanted to hear from Sim that everything was going to be all right. But Sim didn't answer him. Trip tried to fight the fear that was rising in his throat and tried to think logically.

"How long have I been out?"

"Not long. A few moments, a minute at most." Sim shifted uncomfortably. "Can I leave you for a few minutes? I have to take care of Malcolm."

"Malcolm?" Trip started. "What's up with Malcolm?"

"He has a piece of bulkhead stuck in his shoulder."

Trip licked his lips when the truth dawned on him. "He dragged me out."

"Yeah, we both ran to help you, but I slipped on the leaves and fell. I came just in time to see the vessel crashin' down on you, and Malcolm bein' hit by a piece of shattered bulkhead."

"Where is he?"

"I settled him over there where he could lean on a tree. He's bleedin' a lot."

"Then go help him."

"I feel awful leavin' you alone."

"I'll be fine, Sim, I don't think my condition will worsen durin' the next few minutes. You have to help Malcolm, stop the bleedin'."

"Okay." Sim stood up. "I'll be with you as soon as I can."

* * *

 

Malcolm leaned against a tree with his eyes tightly shut, trying to fight the pain. He blinked wearily when he heard Sim approach. "How is he?"

Sim rummaged in the backpack to find the medkit. "He doesn't feel any pain. Do you think he might have broken his back?" He held a hypospray with a painkiller to Malcolm's neck and released the content into the lieutenant's bloodstream.

Malcolm sighed deeply, relishing the feeling as the pain vanished. "Trip crashed to the ground very hard," he admitted. "But I don't think he broke his back. He moved his legs when I tried to pull him away."

Sim took a pair of scissors. "He's afraid that his legs are broken."

Malcolm watched Sim cutting away the bloody sleeves of his uniform and shirt. "To tell the truth I can't imagine that they are not."

"But how come he feels only little pain?"

"It could be possible that the pressure from the vessel is cutting his blood circulation. We have to get him out of there." Impatiently, the lieutenant looked at Sim who was studying Malcolm's injury with a worried frown on his face.

"Pull that thing out of me," he demanded.

"Easy, Malcolm." Sim hesitated. "D'you think that would be wise? This piece is at least six centimeters long and nearly a centimeter wide. It's a nasty injury. It would be better if Phlox removed it."

"I can't work with this trash sticking out of me."

"You can't work at all. I think this piece should be removed professionally."

Malcolm sighed. "Listen, Sim. We have to get Trip out of there and you can't do it alone. So please stop worrying and pull it out."

Sim wasn't convinced. "And what if some major blood vessels are injured? Perhaps this piece of chunk is all that prevents you from bleedin' to death."

"I'm sure there's something in the medkit to cauterize the wound."

"Yeah, there is, but it won't seal an injured artery. Really, Malcolm, we should wait until we're back on Enterprise and let Phlox do it."

For a moment, Malcolm closed his eyes, considering Sim's words. "Isn't there a medical scanner in the backpack?"

"Yes, there is, but I don't know exactly how it works."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were a perfect copy of Trip. I should think you would know how to handle a scanner."

"You know what I mean, Malcolm. I'm not a doctor and I don't know how to interpret the results."

"Just try it."

Sim took the scanner and realigned it so it would show him the condition of Malcolm's injury. "Seems like you were lucky and only some minor blood vessels got injured. But I can't tell for sure."

"How sure are you?"

"I'd say there's a chance of eighty to ninety percent that pullin' out the piece won't do any further damage. Always assuming' that I'm readin' the data correctly."

"I'll take the risk. We have to help Trip as soon as possible."

"But Malcolm…"

Malcolm cut him short. "I told you, I'll take the risk. I trust you and eighty to ninety percent is good enough. Now would you please stop arguing and help me? Or do I have to do it on my own?"

Sim shook his head in defeat. "Okay, I'll do it. I'm afraid it's goin' to hurt despite of the analgesic I gave you."

"That's okay." Malcolm closed his eyes and steeled himself for the pain.

"Y'know, I never again want to hear you talk about stubborn engineers. You're as stubborn as…" Sim didn't finish the sentence, but pulled out the piece of bulkhead that he had taken carefully between his fingers.

Malcolm hissed from the pain, but then relaxed visibly.

"You're a lucky man, Malcolm," Sim told him. "Looks like there are only minor blood vessels injured, after all." Sim cauterized the wound with the liquid he had found in the medkit. Malcolm bit his lip and got visibly paler, but he didn't complain. Sim wound a bandage tightly around Malcolm's left shoulder and started to fix the arm to his chest which made Malcolm protest immediately.

"Look, Malcolm," Sim said in a tone of voice that told Malcolm he wouldn't comply this time. "You can't use the arm anyway. But if you start to move it the wound is goin' to break open again. This cauterizin' stuff stops the bleedin', but it doesn't repair the injury. So please be a good boy and stop complainin'. We don't have time for this."

Surprisingly enough, Malcolm relented, allowing Sim to tie his arm tightly to his chest.

"Any idea how we can get Trip out from under the wreck?" he asked.

"I don't think we can move it, although it's only a part of the vessel. Maybe we won't have another choice but to wait for Enterprise's help."

Malcolm shook his head. "We can't call Enterprise until the next window opens and that will be in approximately two hours. But as you know those windows are stable for only a few minutes. That's by far not enough time for Enterprise to launch a shuttlepod. And we don't know when the following window will appear. According to T'Pol they are not very numerous. It could be too late for Trip by then."

"But how are we supposed to get him out?" Sim glanced over to the place where Trip lay. "If we had a rope we could cobble together something like a lever."

"There is quite a long rope in the rear compartment of the backpack."

Sim started. "Really?" His features brightened up. He offered Malcolm a hand to help him to his feet. "C'mon, Malcolm, let's get to work."

* * *

 

Trip had his eyes closed when they kneeled down beside him. Malcolm threw a worried glance to the part of the shuttle that was covering Trip's legs. Furtively he searched for traces of blood, but he couldn't find any.

Trip opened his eyes when he heard the movement beside him and tried to smile. "How are you?" he asked Malcolm.

"Better than you," Malcolm said. "How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

Trip grimaced. "What d'you think? There's half of a shuttlepod lyin' on my legs." The grimace turned into a reassuring smile when Trip saw Malcolm's worried expression. "Actually, my legs feel strange, but they don't hurt very much. It's more a dull throbbin', what I'm feelin'. Most of all they feel numb."

Malcolm looked over the vessel. "I think the weight is not only cutting your blood circulation, but is also pressing on your nerves. At least I hope that's the only reason why your legs feel numb."

"You think they're broken?"

"I don't know," Malcolm said, but he didn't dare to look into Trip's eyes, which told Trip enough about his friend's thoughts.

Meanwhile, Sim had fetched the thin emergency blanket out of the backpack. Carefully, he spread it across Trip's upper body.

"Can you scan his legs?" Malcolm asked.

"Not as long as the vessel is lyin' on them," Sim regretted. "We're goin' to lift the wreck off your legs," he promised Trip.

"How are you gonna do that?" Trip asked. "It's only a piece of junk, but it looks pretty heavy."

"I thought about it," Sim explained. "We have a rope at hand which I can use to lift the shuttle off the ground. Additionally we'll try to make a lever out of a branch. Do you think you'll be able to pull yourself out if we can lift the vessel a few centimeters?"

"Sure. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Okay, let's begin." Malcolm stood up, but Trip held him back. "Malcolm? I just wanted to thank you. Y'know, for getting' me out of there."

"I'm so sorry it didn't work."

"Oh, it worked, Malcolm, it worked. If not for you, the vessel would've come down exactly on my head. You saved my life, and I'm grateful for that. I'm sorry that you got injured."

"Don't worry, Trip, it's only a scratch."

"Yeah, like always, I know." Trip smiled, but then the smile turned into a pained grimace.

"What is it?" Malcolm asked alarmed.

"My back hurts," Trip admitted.

Sim showed up, the rope in his hands. "You fell on your back pretty hard, Trip. But we don't think that it is broken. Malcolm saw you move your legs." The faintest of smiles tugged at Sim's lips. "I think you massacred a dozen corn poppies, but they cushioned the impact of your fall." He turned to Malcolm. "Perhaps you can look for a branch that's sturdy enough to use as a lever. I'm goin' to climb up this tree." He pointed to a branch about three meters above them. "I think if I throw the rope over this branch and fasten it to the nose of the vessel I should be able to lift the lower part high enough that you could shove the branch under the bottom."

Malcolm nodded and stood up.

Trip watched him leave, then his eyes came to rest on Sim who was preparing the rope. "What if it doesn't work?"

Sim looked at Trip. It was futile to hide his doubts, for Trip knew as well as he did that the chances of succeeding weren't in their favor. "Then I'll take the plasma torch and cut this damned vessel into tiny pieces. We'll get you out of there, Trip, one way or another." Sim paused shortly. "What about the pain? Do you need some painkiller?"

"Not yet. Only my back is hurting and it's bearable."

Malcolm came back, reaching for the backpack. "I found a branch that could serve our purpose. But I have to cut it loose from the tree. Would you help me, Sim?"

"Of course." Sim dropped the rope. "Can we leave you for a moment, Trip?"

"Course. I won't be goin' anywhere."

* * *

 

Trip swallowed. He felt his blood pounding in his ears and his heart was racing.

He didn't feel as well as he had pretended. Actually, he felt sick and the pain in his back was increasing. The fact that he had to lie still in one place didn't help, either. For a moment he reconsidered his decision not to ask for some analgesics, but then he thought he had done the right thing not taking any now. Painkillers always made him a little bit dizzy and he would need all his strength to pull himself out from under the shuttle.

Sim and Malcolm prepared the branch. Once it was ready, Sim stood and stared at the vessel, rope in hand. "Where am I goin' to tie this?" he asked.

Trip looked up. From his vantage point, he could just see a place on the ship where the rope might be secured in such a manner that the ship wouldn't twist or turn when lifted. "There," he said, pointing at it.

Eventually Sim told Trip that they were all set for a try. Malcolm had the lever ready to shove it under the vessel. The end of the rope was attached firmly to the small craft and looped over the branch above them that was slightly bent upwards and would prevent the rope from slipping off it. For additional leverage, Sim had removed some earth from under a strong looking root in the ground until he could pull the rope through the hole. Sim eyed the construction with visible doubt. He sighed. "Well, all we can do is try. Are you ready, Trip?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Trip threw the blanket aside and propped himself up on his elbows, biting his lip when another stab of pain seared through his back.

"Okay." Sim turned around, laid the rope over his shoulder and grabbed it with both his hands. Slowly but steadily he began to pull, leaning forward to use the weight of his own body. The branch was creaking as was the root, but when Sim managed to take two little steps, the vessel's lower end slowly lifted off the ground. It was only a few centimeters, but it was enough for Malcolm to shove the lever under it. With his sound shoulder and his knee he leaned onto the branch. They both heard Trip gasp when the weight was lifted off his legs, and doubled their efforts.

"Okay!" Trip shouted. "Hold it."

Malcolm and Sim tried to hold the vessel in its current place while Trip awkwardly began to wiggle his way out. He was making only slow progress.

Suddenly the branch above their heads gave an audible crack.

"Hurry up, Trip," Sim yelled. "The branch is goin' to break." From his place behind the vessel he couldn't see Trip, but Malcolm shook his head in his direction. Trip still hadn't made it.

Sim was panting. He mobilized all his strength, but he could feel the rope slipping through the gloves he wore to protect his hands. Determinedly, he wrapped the rope around his hand twice and pulled even harder.

A few seconds later he heard the branch creak a second time. When he turned his head he could see it break. He could only shout a warning and jump aside when the rope went limp and the branch came down, missing his head only by ten centimeters.

Malcolm leaned onto the lever with all his weight, but he couldn't hold it. It snapped from under his body, throwing him backwards to the ground. The vessel crashed down again.

"Shit," Sim cursed. "Trip? Did you make it?" He went over to help Malcolm to his feet. "You okay?"

Malcolm, who was supporting his injured shoulder with his right hand, nodded. "I'm fine."

"Trip?" Sim asked once again, this time with fear in his voice.

When there was still no answer, Sim and Malcolm exchanged a worried glance, before they walked around the vessel, stopping in shock when Trip came in sight.

"At least I managed to get out," Trip said hoarsely, looking at them with a face pale as a sheet. Suddenly he began to retch. Sim was at his side in an instant, holding Trip's head while his friend was throwing up.

When the retching subsided, Sim gently patted Trip's shoulder. "You okay?"

Trip nodded slowly, his expression blank.

With a sinking heart, Sim looked up at Malcolm who was still standing beside the vessel, staring at Trip's left leg where a bloody piece of bone was sticking out of the shin.


	8. Chapter 8

Malcolm pressed the hypospray against Trip's neck. "Unfortunately the analgesics in the medkit aren't very strong, but they will reduce the pain."

"I hope so," Trip groaned. He still felt sick. When the weight had been lifted off his legs, the pain had come in a rush. Only with great effort had Trip been able to pull himself out from under the vessel. Now, he had known from the pain alone that his legs were broken but he still hadn't been prepared for the sickening sight of a bloody bone that had pierced the skin and was sticking out like a broken twig.

Sim had slit the legs of Trip's pants to be able to assess the injury. He was still busy with the scanner. "Your right leg is broken just above the knee," he said. "And your right ankle is broken as well, but both seem to be straight fractures to some degree. The only thing we can do is try to stop the bleedin' of your left shin and splint your legs."

Trip nodded, sighing in resignation. "You think I'll be able to walk if I lean on you or use a branch as a sort of crutch? I have to get back to the shuttlepod somehow."

Sim shook his head. "Your right leg is broken in two places and your left shin is stickin' out like a flagpole. There is no way you can walk."

The three of them startled when suddenly the communicator in Trip's arm pocket began to beep. "Archer to Tucker. Come in, Trip."

Malcolm took the device out of Trip's pocket. "This is Reed, sir."

"Where are you?" Archer asked. "We are having difficulties detecting the shuttlepod. I assume you're on your way back?"

Malcolm hesitated. "Not exactly, sir."

"What do you mean?" The interference was disturbing the connection, but the suspicion in Archer's voice was clearly audible. "Why didn't Trip answer the call?"

Malcolm heaved a sigh when he looked at Trip and walked a few steps away to tell the captain about the situation.

Trip smiled sarcastically. "I bet Jon's not gonna like what Malcolm has to tell him." The smile was replaced by a pained grimace and a hiss when Sim worked on the broken shin.

"I'm sorry, Trip," Sim said in regret. "It's difficult to stop the bleedin'. I tried to cauterize the wound but it won't stop."

When Malcolm came back, Sim asked him to press some swabs on the wound while Sim bandaged the shin as well as possible.

"What did the cap'n say?" Trip asked, concentrating on Malcolm and trying not to look at what Sim was doing.

"What do you think? He promised to lock you up in the brig once you're back so that you won't have a chance to endanger your life again." Malcolm's smile told Trip that he was only joking, and the lieutenant sobered up in an instant. "Of course he's worried. About all of us. We didn't have much time to talk, since the window was stable only for a few minutes until it collapsed. But I found out some important information. There are two more windows opening during the next few hours: one in about five hours and one more in about eight hours. T'Pol couldn't tell for sure, but if we miss that one we'll be stuck here for at least another eleven hours."

"I'd prefer to catch the first one." Sim was finished with the bandage. "Is it comfortable, Trip?"

Trip nodded. "How am I supposed to get to the shuttlepod?"

"There's no way to bring the pod here, so we'll have to carry you there."

"Malcolm is injured and you don't look very good, either," Trip said, looking up at Sim. "How d'you think you're gonna carry me?"

"First things first." Sim searched the ground around them. "We need to find some straight branches to splint up your legs."

"Let me do that," Malcolm said. "You need to rest for a few minutes, Sim. Trip is right, you're exhausted and you look even paler than he does. Sit down."

Sim complied willingly. With a heavy sigh he sat down beside Trip and let his shoulders slump.

"I think we'll have to do a few workouts together back on Enterprise," Trip pondered. "I'm sure Phlox will prescribe me some physical therapy for getting' back on my feet. And you could use some exercises to build up your endurance."

"You think I don't have enough muscle?" Sim joked. "I lifted a shuttlepod with nothin' but my own strength. I don't think you could've done that."

Trip smiled. It was strangely comforting to have Sim at his side. He knew that Sim knew that he was joking only to avoid talking about his condition. His left leg looked pretty bad, and his right ankle and his thigh were visibly swollen by now. Trip could feel that he was developing a fever. He knew that it was very urgent that he got back to Enterprise, but there was no way to do so within the next five hours. He was pretty sure that Phlox would be able to heal his legs but he didn't dare to think about how much time it would take. The thought of being bedridden once again made him cringe.

"I think you'll have to take over Engineerin'," he told Sim.

Sim snorted. "You think the cap'n would allow that?"

"Why not? You're as good an engineer as I am."

"But I don't think the crew would accept your clone as their CO. And there's no way I'll pretend that I'm you for a longer time."

Trip smiled broadly. "That's a good idea. We'll tell everyone that it is you who broke his legs. The crew won't notice."

"I bet they would." Malcolm laid some branches next to Sim, not too thick, but strong enough to stabilize Trip's legs. Sim nodded, but Trip didn't know whether he was approving of the branches or Malcolm's words.

He forgot about the friendly bantering when Sim and Malcolm started to set his legs. He gritted his teeth so his friends wouldn't see that he was in pain, but of course it was a futile attempt.

"I can give you another painkiller," Sim offered. "The last one apparently wasn't strong enough."

"How much analgesics do we have?" Trip asked.

"We have two more shots and each of them will kill the pain for about two hours."

Trip grimaced. "There's still the way back to the shuttle. I'd prefer to have the painkiller then. I can take it for now. By the way, I think Malcolm could use some analgesic for himself."

"No way, Commander," Malcolm answered. "I'm fine. I told you it's only a scratch. You need it more than I do."

Although his eyes were worried, Sim smiled.

"What's the matter, Sim?" Trip wanted to know.

Sim tried to skip the answer, but when his friends both gave him a questioning look, he said: "I just like your little competition about who of you can take more pain."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "You hear that, Trip? Your double is speaking up."

"Yeah, I know," Trip said ironically. "He's so much less heroic than we are, Malcolm."

Sim laughed, but sobered up. "Okay. You sure you won't have another painkiller, Trip? We'll have to move your legs and that's goin' to hurt like hell."

"Believe me, I'd take another shot if I could lie here until Enterprise comes. But since that's not an option, and since we'll have to go back through the water and the rough terrain, I think it would be better to save it for later. Just be careful."

While they were talking, Malcolm had started to unwrap the bandages Sim had used to tie his arm to his chest. Sim watched with disapproval clearly written on his face. Malcolm just shrugged with his good shoulder.

"It was no problem leaning on the lever with an arm that was tied to my chest and I was able to collect branches with only one hand, but I need two hands if we want to splint Trip's legs properly. I promise to move my shoulder as little as possible and perhaps…" Malcolm smiled grimly, "… I may even allow you to tie my arm back to my chest afterwards. But now let's get to work."

Malcolm held the branches against Trip's legs while Sim used the last of their bandages and a piece of the rope to fix them. They both tried to ignore Trip's gasping and hissing that told them about the pain he had to endure while Sim tied the splints firmly to his legs.

"Done." With a relieved sigh, Sim laid Trip's legs carefully back onto the ground and considered his handiwork. Both legs were neatly splinted up to Trip's hips and were bound together so he wasn't able to move them.

Gently, Malcolm wiped the sweat off Trip's forehead and once again covered his body with the blanket. Sim got two bottles of water out of the backpack and handed one to Malcolm, the other one to Trip, and supported his friend's head so that he was able to drink.

After that Sim got up and started to tie Malcolm's left arm to his chest again. Malcolm didn't complain, which told Sim that splinting Trip's legs had caused the lieutenant more pain than he had let on. Malcolm's face was pale and Sim wished he could allow all of them an hour of sleep. He didn't feel very well either, and remembered Phlox' advice to take things easy. But they couldn't afford the time to rest and he only hoped that his heart was still strong enough to cope with the strain he had to put on his body. He let his eyes wander across the Xindi vessel.

"Perhaps we could use the bulkheads to make something like a stretcher," he suggested. "Wouldn't be very comfortable for Trip, but we might be able to drag him along."

"Sounds good." Malcolm nodded and patted Trip on the shoulder. "Just give a shout if you need us."

* * *

 

Trip was brooding. Lying flat on his back, he looked up to the trees. What else could he do but let his thoughts wander? He could hear Sim and Malcolm working, but he would have to prop himself up on his elbows to see them, and every movement sent a sharp pain through his legs. His discomfort was increased by his full bladder, which he could no longer ignore. The urge to relieve himself was becoming stronger with every passing minute. Trip clenched his teeth, deciding that he could postpone the embarrassing procedure a little longer.

Carefully, he supported his head with his hand and tried to spot Sim and Malcolm. They had managed to cut out a piece of bulkhead that was about two meters long and a little bit more than a meter wide. Trip grimaced. It certainly didn't look very comfortable and he wasn't very keen on lying down on the rough material and being dragged over the uneven ground. Sim and Malcolm were busy fixing two rods at one end to serve as handles. Apparently Sim had been able to weld the rods to the bulkhead and was additionally tying some of the circuits around the construction. Watching Sim fumble with the thin wires, Trip wondered why his friend didn't use the rest of the rope. But then a thought struck him and made him shudder. They needed the rope to strap him down on the bulkhead, so he wouldn't slip off it. All of a sudden, Trip felt his eyes starting to burn and pressed them shut. Securing him was the logical course of action to prevent him from falling to the ground, but he couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Being as helpless as he was made him very self-conscious.

Trip sighed deeply and tried to get a grip on himself. There was no reason to feel embarrassed, Malcolm and Sim would take good care of him. Trip smirked ironically. He was glad T'Pol couldn't see him like this, lying here a picture of misery and wallowing in a sudden moment of self-pity.

Thinking of T'Pol helped him regain his composure. He simply had to rely on Sim and Malcolm and do whatever he could to help them. Feeling sorry for himself wouldn't help a bit.

Trip frowned as he returned his attention to Sim and Malcolm. He couldn't hear what they were talking about, since they were keeping their voices low so as not to disturb him, but from their gestures he could tell that they were arguing. Pursing his lips, he decided that it was the perfect moment to interrupt and call for help. The pressure of his bladder was becoming almost painful, and he couldn't suppress his need any longer. But for whom should he call? Malcolm? It would be too embarrassing for his reserved friend to help him, and with only one arm he wouldn't be very helpful either.

"Sim? Do you have a minute?"

Sim was at his side in an instant. "What is it, Trip? Are you in pain?"

"A little. But that's not why I called. I have to …" Trip licked his lips, "… to …"

Sim smiled understandingly. "Okay. I'll try to turn you onto your side. You think you're gonna be able to manage then?"

"I still have two healthy hands, y'know," Trip said through gritted teeth.

Sim only nodded and as carefully as possible he shoved his hands under Trip's hip and shoulder and turned him over. Trip panted as he grabbed a root to turn his upper body around until he lay on his side. For a few seconds, his breath came in ragged gasps.

"That's it," Sim decided. "I'm givin' you some painkiller."

"Don't," Trip hissed. "I don't want to waste it. The pain's gonna relent as soon as I'm layin' on my back again. I'd rather have the painkiller when we're on our way back. I have a feelin' that the trip's not goin' to be pleasant."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with you there," Sim said unhappily, supporting Trip's back so that the engineer had his hands free to open his pants. "There's nothin' we can do but to drag you along. Malcolm insisted that he is very well able to carry the other end of the stretcher, but I don't believe him. Not with his injured shoulder."

"That's the reason you were arguin'?"

"Yeah. Malcolm has tried to free his arm already three times so he would have two hands to help me. He keeps tellin' me that he's fine and that his shoulder doesn't hurt. But you only have to look at him to know that he's lyin'."

"What did you expect? It's Malcolm we're talkin' about. You'd have to amputate his arm to get him to admit that he can't use it."

Sim snorted, helping Trip to lie on his back again. "I offered him some painkillers, but he refused them. Told me he wouldn't use painkillers for this bloody scratch when you're goin' to need them so badly."

Trip smiled, but his voice cracked slightly with emotion when he answered. "Malcolm always has to prove that he's a hero."

"He's not the only one." Sim felt Trip's forehead and frowned. "You're as hot as the stove in grandma's kitchen." He rummaged in the backpack. "I'm goin' to give you somethin' against the fever. We have no use for a delirious engineer fallin' off our wonderful makeshift stretcher." Sim smiled as he pressed the hypospray against Trip's neck and released its content. "I guess we'll be ready to get goin' in about half an hour. Try to sleep a little. Do you want somethin' to eat? We still have those delicious nutrient bars."

Trip grinned, shaking his head. "I'm not hungry. At least not enough to eat those bars. I'm goin' to wait until we're back on Enterprise and Chef prepares me somethin' special." Seeing Sim's worried expression, Trip tried a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Sim, I won't starve. I'm simply goin' to lie around like a lazybones and leave it to your skilled hands to do all the work and to carry me back to the shuttle." Realizing that Sim didn't buy the cheerful mood, Trip closed his eyes. "Tell me when you're ready," he said, allowing his exhaustion and frustration to be heard in his voice. "Or even better, wake me up when I'm safely back in the shuttle again."

* * *

 

Malcolm and Sim looked at Trip, who had fallen asleep while they'd finished preparing the stretcher.

"I hate to wake him," Sim whispered.

"Perhaps we can lay him on the stretcher without waking him."

Sim sighed. "He's goin' to wake up the moment you touch him. He's the chief engineer of Enterprise, and since there's always the possibility of something happenin' to his precious engines, he's alert even in his sleep."

"I thought people were saying that about me."

Sim's eyes twinkled when he glanced at Malcolm. "You see, Malcolm, even people as different as we are have somethin' in common." Looking at Trip, Sim sobered up. Sighing, he knelt down to get the painkiller out of the backpack. "It's goin' to be torture for him," he said in a low voice. "As soon as we're back on Enterprise I'm goin' to tell Phlox that he has to add some stronger analgesics to the med kit."

"Perhaps he thinks stronger analgesics could be dangerous if they are applied without detailed knowledge about the patient's condition."

"Yeah, that's probably true in most cases. But we know Trip's condition. And it's a very painful one." Sim looked at the hypo in his hands, before he pressed it against Trip's neck. "Nevertheless, we have to do with this."

Trip opened his eyes, blinking several times, before he focused on Sim. "Ready?" he asked hoarsely.

Sim nodded. "I just gave you another injection of analgesic. We're goin' to lift you onto the stretcher now."

Trip glanced at the bulkhead. Sim had padded it with the blanket, but it didn't look any more comfortable than it had before. "Let's get it over with. I think the painkiller is already workin'."

Malcolm stood behind Trip's head and bent down. "Hold on to my neck, Trip."

Trip nodded and folded his hands behind Malcolm's neck. Malcolm laid his good arm across Trip's chest and held him under the armpit to at least take some of the weight. Standing up, he lifted Trip's upper body off the ground. Sim cautiously took Trip's legs and together they lifted the engineer onto the makeshift stretcher. Trip grimaced, but he didn't make a sound.

Sim took the rope and cut it into pieces. "I'm sorry, Trip, but we have to tie you down. It wouldn't do you any good if you fell off the stretcher or if your legs moved around."

"That's okay," Trip said, but Sim could see in his eyes that he felt uncomfortable with the thought of being strapped down.

Sim started to secure Trip with ropes around his chest and hips, and bound the splinted legs to the bulkhead. "I'm not gonna ask you whether it's comfortable," he said. "Because I know it's not. To add to your inconvenience I'm afraid I'll have to drag you along feet first. It's easier for me and this way your legs won't be jostled so much." Sim rolled up his jacket and laid it under Trip's head. "Tell us as soon as you're in pain or if you need a rest." He gave Trip a stern look. "Promise."

Trip nodded. "I'm gonna be okay, Sim. Just get me to the shuttle before the painkiller wears out." He turned to Malcolm. "Why don't you hand me the backpack, Mal? Sim can't carry it and you can't, either."

Malcom gritted his teeth when once again he was reminded of his injury, but he laid the backpack on Trip's stomach without a word of protest. Sim placed his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "We need you to lead us, Malcolm. Try to find the path we made to come here. Then we won't have to cut through the underbrush again."

Malcom nodded. "I believe it's over there." He started walking.

Sim sighed. "At least the temperature is a little cooler than before." He looked up to the sky. "I guess it's late afternoon."

Trip followed his gaze and nodded. "Yeah. Remember what T'Pol told us on Enterprise? The planet needs forty-two hours for its rotation. Pretty long days."

Sim smiled. "At least we're goin' to have day-light for another few hours. I wouldn't want to stumble through the forest in the dark."

He grabbed the handles of the stretcher and followed Malcolm, who had disappeared into the underbrush. He tried to handle the stretcher very carefully, but couldn't avoid it bumping over the roots. Sim was well aware that although Trip was not in severe pain he certainly would feel every bump the stretcher was dragged across. He calculated the time they would need to cover the distance. They could make it just in time to reach the first window in the atmosphere, but it wouldn't hurt to speed things up a little. Just to be sure. Sim sighed. He was already sweating and exhausted, and they had three kilometers of uneven terrain to cover. Not to speak of the river. Sim would have given a lot to lie down and sleep for a few hours, but they couldn't afford the delay. He had to ignore the signals his body was sending him. For the last few hours, his heartbeat had steadily accelerated to cope with the strain and it made his chest hurt. Phlox would have his head once they were back on Enterprise _. "I told you to take it easy, Sim. I told you that you have a weak heart. You're as stubborn as Mr. Tucker. He never listens to his body either. Were you trying to kill yourself?"_

Sim smiled wryly. The only possibility left would have been to wait for a rescue team from Enterprise. But he had a certain feeling that Trip wouldn't have had the time left to wait for them. With the painkillers the engineer was feeling all right, as long as he didn't move his legs. But his right leg had swollen almost twice as thick as it had been. Between the swelling and what Sim assumed had to be internal bleeding, he was worried. Perhaps worse yet was the danger of infection from the open wound. Trip wasn't critical yet but they had to get him to Enterprise as soon as possible.

* * *

 

Eventually the underbrush receded, and they had more room to move. Sim kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground to find a way with as few roots and as little uneven ground as possible. A grim smile tugged on his lips as he dragged Trip through a field of corn poppies, causing Trip to curse.

"I'm sorry Trip, but I don't think the roots over there would be any better."

Trip coughed. "I'm lucky that I'm not allergic to alien flowers." With his hands he shoved away the corn poppies before they could smack into his face. "From this perspective it looks like I'm Gulliver in the land of the giants."

Sim couldn't help but laugh, but suddenly stopped.

"Somethin's the matter, Sim?"

"Nah." Sim shook his head. "I think I'm startin' to hallucinate. I just thought I saw a few vines crawlin' across the ground."

Trip startled. He tried to lift his upper body to be able to see what was ahead, but strapped down like he was he couldn't do it. "I saw the same thing when we came here," he told Sim.

Surprised, Sim turned his head to look at him when he felt something tug at his ankle. He didn't even have time to look down when a sudden jerk yanked him off his feet. He lost his grip on the rods and the stretcher crashed to the ground. Trip's cry of pain was muffled by the thud of Sim hitting the ground himself, dragged down and then across the ground by a vine wound firmly around his ankle. Without thinking he dug his fingers into the earth, desperately trying to stop the movement. He heard Trip shout his name and out of the corner of his eye he saw him fumble with his restraints.

Sim's fingers dug deep furrows into the ground. He kicked with the other foot to free himself, but the vine was holding him in an iron grip. He was scraped across several roots, but they broke when he tried to hold on to them.

Suddenly, Malcolm was at his side. He tried to break the vine, but with only one hand it was impossible. "Trip!" he yelled. "The knife. It's in the backpack." Seeing how thick and powerful the vine was, he reconsidered. "Forget about the knife, Trip. Pass me my phase pistol."

Malcolm grabbed Sim and dug his heels into the ground. But the vine was stronger and although this slowed them down, they were still both dragged along.

"Look out, Sim, there's another one!"

A second vine crawled up Sim's other leg, immobilizing it.

"Trip!"

"I've got it, Malcolm. But you're too far away. I can't get up! Look out!"

Malcolm heard the phase pistol smack the ground a few meters behind him. To reach it he had to let go of Sim. But he had to get the pistol, otherwise they both would be dragged to whatever it was that was trying to get him, and Malcolm was sure it wasn't pleasant. He could spot something like a crater about ten meters away and at the speed they were dragged along, they would reach it within a minute.

"I'm going to let go of you, Sim," he told his friend. "Try to grab whatever you can. I'll fetch the phase pistol."

Sim didn't answer. His face was contorted with pain and fear. He managed to get hold of a branch that hung down from a tree. But the branch withstood the strain only for a few seconds until it broke and, with a loud cry, Sim slid another meter over the ground.

Malcolm stumbled as he tried to get his phase pistol as fast as he could. He rolled over his good shoulder and, ignoring the pain that shot through his injury, grabbed the pistol and got to his feet again. In a run, he caught up with Sim and fired, praying that he would not hit Sim's leg. The vine shook and jerked, but didn't loosen its grip. Malcolm fired again and again until that one vine stopped jerking and lay still like a peace of dead wood. But the other was still dragging Sim to the crater. Desperately, Malcolm set the pistol on constant fire and aimed at the vine. Finally, the movement stopped. Sighing deeply, Malcolm helped a very shaky Sim back to his feet.

"What was that?" Sim asked with a trembling breath, looking around while he removed the vines from his legs.

"I don't know." Still out of breath, Malcolm followed Sims's gaze. His eyes widened when he saw a lot of bones that were lying all around the crater. He took a few careful steps until he was able to look inside. "It's some sort of plant," he said. "With a diameter of at least two meters."

Sim stepped up beside him. "A carnivorous plant," he said with a shudder. "And judgin' by all the bones it doesn't feed on insects."

They looked at each other, not daring to think about what would have happened if Malcolm hadn't been able to free Sim.

"Let's get out of here, before it attacks us again." Malcolm pointed to the vines that were crawling in different directions.

The corners of Sim's mouth twitched. "It seems like it has lost its interest in us," he stated.

Malcolm smiled grimly. "Yes, I'm sure by now the plant is thinking that we're indigestible."

They smiled at each other, but suddenly they were both hit by the same thought. As if to confirm their thoughts, an anxious cry pierced the air.


	9. Chapter 9

"Trip!" Phase pistol ready in hand, Malcolm sprinted back, Sim following closely behind. It was only forty meters but it seemed to take forever to cover the distance on the rough terrain.

Trip was fighting desperately against a vine that had his right arm in a firm grip. Another one was twining around his legs and Trip couldn't do anything against it. As the vine pulled, slowly, the makeshift stretcher began to move.

"Hold on, Trip!" Malcolm reached the vines and began to fire. When the vine around Trip's legs snapped, the second one suddenly let go and retreated. Sim grabbed the handles of the stretcher and hurried out of the plant's reach with Malcolm covering their backs. It wasn't until they had covered another hundred meters that Sim let the stretcher slide to the ground and sat down, panting heavily. "What d'you think, Malcolm," he gasped. "How far can it reach?"

"Not this far, I hope. But we'd better be cautious. There may be other plants like it around."

"Could you please tell me what that was?" Trip looked from Malcolm to Sim, shock still evident in his eyes.

Malcolm sat down beside him, carefully removing the now dead vine from Trip's legs. "A carnivorous plant that had chosen us for its dinner."

Trip's eyes widened. "I saw the movin' vines when we came here the first time. But I thought my eyes were playin' tricks on me. Why didn't it attack us then?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Perhaps it was still busy digesting its breakfast. We saw a lot of bones lying over there."

"Maybe it's not active in the midday heat. It's much cooler now than it was when we came here a few hours ago." Sim stood up, only to sit down again beside Trip.

"Thank you," Trip murmured.

Sim laid his hand on Trip's arm, smiling knowingly.

Trip took Malcolm's arm. "It's the second time today that you've saved my life."

"Feel free to return the favor anytime." Malcolm smiled. Then he looked over to Sim who was searching through the backpack. "What are you looking for, Sim?"

"The gloves," Sim answered.

Trip looked at him, then gently reached for Sim's hands and turned them around. Sim's palms and fingers were sore, his fingertips bloody and his nails ripped.

Trip bit his lip. "Will you please hand me the medkit, Malcolm?"

"Won't be much use," Sim said. "There are no bandages left."

Malcolm looked down at his chest, where his arm was tied into place with bandages.

Sim followed the lieutenant's gaze and shook his head. "I know what you're thinkin', Malcolm, but I won't let you do it. You mustn't move your arm."

"But it would be better to bandage your hands. The rods aren't exactly made of a smooth material, they will chafe your hands even more."

"That's what the gloves are for."

"But we can clean up your hands," Trip insisted.

"We don't have time for this."

"Yes, we do," Malcolm said firmly. "We still have nearly two hours left. I think one and a half would be enough to cross the river and reach the pod. You are exhausted, Sim. You need to rest. We'll take a half-an-hour break. And that's an order," he added, when Sim opened his mouth to object. "Fortunately, you're not Trip and therefore do not outrank me." Malcolm smirked.

Sim complied, allowing Trip to clean up his sore hands.

"Lie down and try to sleep a little," Malcolm suggested. "I'll keep watch."

"But you're tired as well, Malcolm," Sim objected.

"I can't sleep anyway with those plants around. And you have to regain your strength so that you can carry the stretcher." Malcolm looked at Sim solemnly. "I can't help you with the stretcher, but I can do my job as security officer."

Once more, Sim complied. Using his arm as a cushion, he lay down and fell asleep almost at once.

* * *

 

Close to an hour later they stood at the river bank and looked at the other side. Standing ankle deep in the water, Malcolm had his lips tightly pressed together. The knot in his chest was almost choking him. It had been difficult to cross the river with both his friends at his side, and with two sound arms that had allowed him to swim. How was he supposed to cross the deep spot with one arm? How were they supposed to bring Trip safely to the other side?

"I'll carry him," Sim decided. "It's not difficult in the water. Then I'll come back and fetch the stretcher and the backpack."

"Don't you think the bulkhead would sink like a stone?"

"It would be more difficult if the water was deeper. But since I'll have solid ground under my feet most of the time I'll be fine. But you will be on your own." Sim glanced at Malcolm with a worried expression. "Will you manage?"

Malcolm straightened his posture. "Of course I will." There was no way he would show any weakness. It was ridiculous that Sim was worried about him when he had to carry Trip through the water. "Like you said: I'll have solid ground under my feet. I can take the backpack."

"Leave it to me, Malcolm," Sim said gently. "Concentrate on gettin' to the other side unharmed. I won't be able to help you."

… _if you freak out_ , Malcolm silently completed the sentence. He gritted his teeth, determined to not let his aquaphobia have the better of him. "I'll manage," he said, trying to convince Sim as well as himself. "How are we going to bring Trip up the slope over there?"

"Wish I knew." Sim sighed. "We won't have any other option than to drag him up. Won't be very pleasant for him, though."

"Trip is as tough as nails," Malcolm answered. "He'll be okay."

Sim nodded. "I'm glad the water isn't cold. Trip's already runnin' a fever."

Malcolm patted Sim's shoulder and, with a last challenging glance over the water, he turned around to get back to Trip who lay a few meters behind them where the ground still was dry.

* * *

 

Trip strained his neck to look over to Sim and Malcolm who stood at the nearby river's edge. He knew perfectly well what they were talking about. He hated being a burden to his friends. He should be at Malcolm's side, helping him fight his phobia and lending him a helping hand should he lose the fight and start to panic. Instead, Malcolm would be all alone, and even Sim wouldn't be able to help him because he would have to carry Trip. Cursing his condition, Trip started to unfasten the straps across his chest and hips. There was no way his friends could take him to the other side with a shuttle bulkhead attached to him.

Sim kneeled down beside him and freed his legs, while Malcolm stowed away the communicators and the scanners in the backpack so they wouldn't get wet.

"Leave the backpack here," Sim said. "I'll come back and get it."

"What about the padd?" Trip asked. "It's still in my pocket."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Wouldn't be a good thing if it was damaged by the water." Sim took a water-proof bag out of the backpack and sealed the padd inside. "I'll put it in the backpack. It's not totally water proof, but it's a lot more water-resistant than your uniform is."

"Yeah," Trip agreed. "Just to be sure. Hoshi will have our heads if the data is spoiled."

Sim smiled and put the backpack aside. Then he tested whether Trip's legs were still bound tightly together and the splints still firmly fixed. Grabbing Trip under the armpits, he dragged him into the water until it was deep enough so that he could take Trip on his arms. At first he tried to hold the splinted legs out of the water so that the bandage on the open fracture wouldn't get too wet, but it was a futile attempt. Trip, who had wrapped his arm around Sim's neck, saw what he was trying to do and shook his head. "Just let my legs drop into the water."

"We don't know what bugs are swimmin' around in there, Trip. You have an open wound that might get infected."

"The bandage is already wet, Sim. You can't do anythin' about it. By the way, you can't keep holdin' me like a baby when you have to swim yourself."

"That's true," Sim admitted reluctantly. "To be honest, I don't know how we can do it."

"Don't you think it's a little bit too late to think about that?" Trip chuckled. "Don't worry, I guess I can swim on my own. At least for a short distance."

Sim grimaced. "That's what I was hopin'," he admitted.

However, when Sim let Trip's legs slide under the water, Trip instantly felt the warm water stimulate the circulation in them, and the blood, flowing more freely, started to seep through the wet bandage. Trip only hoped that Sim wouldn't notice.

He could see Malcolm wading grimly through the water, his eyes fixed on the other side. Trip smiled. He didn't want to disturb his friend's concentration by asking how he was doing. Malcolm was stubborn enough to get over his aquaphobia. He would make it.

"It's gettin' deeper," Sim announced, startling Malcolm and Trip out of their thoughts. "Watch out for the ravine, Malcolm, I believe it's only a few meters to the left. Try to hold your track when you start swimmin'."

Malcolm only nodded, but at the same time took a few steps to the right, closer to Sim and Trip.

When the water reached his shoulders, Sim started to swim. "It's only about twenty meters," he told Trip. "I'll hold you as long as I can."

It was difficult for Sim to swim without using his arms. Even more so with a weight on them. Trip made steadying movements with his arm, but it didn't help much.

Suddenly, they heard a cry behind them. Trip looked over Sim's shoulder. "Malcolm!" he shouted in confusion. "Malcolm! Where are you?" With frightened eyes he looked at Sim. "He's gone."

Sim didn't know what to do. He couldn't even turn around with Trip on his arms. Trip let go of Sim's neck. "You must go and help him."

"I can't let go of you."

"'Course you can. I still have two healthy arms. I told you I can swim."

Sim shot him an uncertain glance, but they had no other choice. He let go of Trip and dived.

Trip held himself in place by moving his arms, but he painfully missed the support of his legs. Their weight was pulling him down and he didn't know how long he would be able to hang on. But his worries about himself came second at the moment. He scanned the water's surface and detected bubbles and a movement under water, but he couldn't make out neither Malcolm nor Sim. But the water wasn't so deep that they could disappear completely, was it? The seconds stretched like hours and for a horrible moment Trip feared that they both had drowned. Finally, Sim emerged.

"What's goin' on?" Trip shouted, beside himself with worry.

"One of the carnivorous plants must be livin' in the ravine," Sim said hastily. "Malcolm is trapped. Some of the vines have got him. I need the knife, Trip."

"It's in the backpack. You'll need a few minutes to get back. There's no way Malcolm can hold his breath that long."

"I need you to do it, Trip. I can give Malcolm mouth-to-mouth breathin', but I can't do it for a long time. I don't even know whether it's workin' and how long he'd be able to fight the plant. He's panickin' as you can imagine. Hurry up, Trip, I know you can do it." And with this, Sim took a deep breath and dived under again.

Trip's feverish mind was still trying to understand what had happened, but his instincts kicked in almost immediately. Without thinking he pulled his arms through the water, trying to swim to the edge of the river they had left only a few minutes ago. His legs were protesting and suddenly a sharp pain shot through them when his feet dragged across the river bed. Trip simply ignored it. Imagining the agony Malcolm was suffering at this very moment was giving him the chills. Thinking that his friend was caught under water, struggling against a plant that wanted to eat him gave him a rush of adrenaline that numbed the pain and allowed him to double his efforts. His heart was thumping in his chest and his blood was pounding in his ears. Sweat was beginning to run into his eyes and he tried to get rid of it by ducking his head under water. If only the water wasn't so warm. It was like swimming in a bath tub. He didn't have more than fifty meters left to cover but he had the impression that he was making no progress at all. His legs were hurting and he was quite sure that without the painkiller he would have lost consciousness a long time ago. Desperately, he struggled on, trying to lift his legs so that their weight wouldn't pull him down. When the water got shallower, he turned around to prevent the protruding bone from scratching over the ground. Swimming on his back without using his legs for support wasn't easy, either, but he was almost there. He could see Sim emerge from the water and yell "Hurry up, he can't hold on much longer" and despite his racing heart and his tired arms he once more tried to increase his speed. He couldn't let Malcolm die. It would be his fault if Malcolm died.

Eventually, the water was so shallow that Trip could sit up. He pulled himself over to the backpack and started rummaging through the pockets. Where the hell was the knife? Every wasted second could cost Malcolm's life. Sim wasn't going to be able to give him mouth-to-mouth forever, and the air Malcolm got from him wouldn't be enough to survive much longer.

"Got it!" With a relieved sigh Trip grabbed the knife and placed it between his teeth. He didn't have the time to stow it away in a pocket of his uniform. Quickly, he turned around and pulled himself back into the water, clenching his teeth on the knife when a sharp pain shot up his legs as they dragged over the ground. When the water got deeper he noticed a few thin red streaks drifting past him. The warm water and the strain he had to put on his legs was making his wound bleed even more. But he couldn't bring himself to worry about it right now. He only wished he could have used his legs to speed himself up. He could see Sim emerge and dive back down every twenty or so seconds in the desperate attempt to keep Malcolm alive. Even from a distance Trip could hear him panting and he knew that their time was running short. When Sim broke through the surface the next time, Trip gave a yell and threw the knife to the other man, hoping he had thrown it far enough so that Sim would be able to catch it. If the knife dropped into the water too far away from Sim, it would sink, and with it their last hope of saving Malcolm.

But Sim leaned over and caught the knife in a smooth movement. With his teeth, he removed the cover that protected the blade. He took a deep breath and disappeared.

Trip closed his eyes. Had he been fast enough? Or was Malcolm already dead? He let out a shaking breath. Hold on, Malcolm, he thought desperately. Please hold on.

He allowed himself only a short moment of weakness, before he crossed the rest of the distance. His job wasn't done yet. He took a deep breath and let himself sink under water.

* * *

 

Malcolm paused for a moment, trying to get his breath. He stood mid-river, the water flowing around his thighs as he kept his eyes fixed on the river's edge, the place where he longed to be so badly. He was sweating. Of course it was from the warm water, at least that was what he kept telling himself. He never would have admitted that the sweat on his forehead could be from fear as well. His heart began to race every time he looked at the water's surface (and there was really no way to avoid doing so), but he could keep the panic at bay by repeating to himself that he had nothing to fear with solid ground under his feet. It was illogical to panic just because he had to wade through a river, and he found it highly annoying that his body wouldn't listen to his mind and would react with such anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be all but choking him as he stared at the water. Malcolm gritted his teeth. "No need to panic," he murmured to no one in particular. "It's only a little water."

"It's gettin' deeper," Sim announced. Malcolm acknowledged the words with a grim smile. He had managed the first time, he would manage now.

Just as the water had reached his chest, Malcolm felt a movement beside his ankle. He didn't even have the time to warn his friends when something grabbed his leg and, with a hard jerk, pulled him under.

Instinctively, he had taken a deep breath and pressed his mouth shut just before he was pulled down, but all the same, Malcolm froze in shock when his head went under. His eyes as blank as his mind, for a moment he allowed whatever creature had him in its grip to pull him into the ravine. It was only his survival instinct kicking in that made him resist and start kicking and splashing. Fervently, he tried to break his left arm free, jerking on the bandages that were holding it to his chest. Kicking with his legs, he realized that it had to be a vine of one of the carnivorous plants that was holding his leg in a tight grip. Desperately, Malcolm struggled against his enemy, but the vine wouldn't let go. However, it stopped pulling him deeper. It was as if the plant knew that all it had to do was keep his prey under water and soon it would be able to pull it down without any major efforts. Malcolm knew that he had only limited time, and the more he struggled the more oxygen he would use up. His mind was telling him to calm down, so as not to waste too much of his precious air, but the panic that was choking him up wouldn't allow him to act rationally.

Suddenly, his flailing arm hit something. He didn't know what it was but he clung to it with all his might, trying to pull himself up. Something dug in his arm so painfully that he had to let go. The pain had cleared his vision, however, and Malcolm realized that it was Sim. Again he tried to cling to his friend's neck, desperate to get back to the surface. But again Sim freed himself with force, staring into Malcolm's eyes as if he were begging him not to panic. His mind, trained to stay calm in life-or-death situations, told Malcolm to get a grip, that Sim couldn't save him as long as he was panicking and pulling the other man down with him, but his arm seemed to have its own will, holding on to Sim's clothes again and again. Sheer panic had taken control of his actions and his mind couldn't get through. Eventually, Sim swam out of Malcolm's reach and let himself sink deeper into the ravine to examine the vine that had captured Malcolm's leg. Malcolm could feel him tearing at the vine with all his might and kicked with his free leg to break free. He hit something with his foot, but the vine wouldn't budge even an inch.

All of a sudden, Malcolm's mind became extremely lucid, seeing clearly what would happen to him. He would meet the same destiny his great-uncle had met. Malcolm had never been afraid of dying but he had always pictured himself dying in battle or protecting Enterprise and her crew; not drowning, held under water by a bloody plant.

Malcolm startled when Sim's face appeared in front of his eyes and instinctively turned his head away, but Sim just grabbed the sides of his head and forced it back.

It was only when Sim pressed his mouth against Malcolm's lips and tried to blow some air through them that Malcolm realized that Sim was trying to give him mouth-to-mouth. Instinctively, he opened his lips just enough that some of the air got through. It was an awkward feeling, but his lungs gratefully accepted the extra oxygen. Sim gave Malcolm the thumbs up and swam back to the surface.

Malcolm's mind was racing as fast as his heart. He couldn't think straight but the last bit of rationality that was left in him told him he would drown for sure if he didn't manage to calm down. With an effort, Malcolm stopped kicking, concentrating on letting out his breath very slowly. He thought briefly it would be better to just inhale and let the water in. That way he would cut his suffering short. But Malcolm couldn't bring himself to do so.

His lungs were crying for air and Malcolm thought they would burst any second when Sim came back into his range of vision. The urge to breathe decreased a little when Sim gave him another rescue breath, and then turned around to struggle for the surface again. Malcolm's mind was getting cloudy and had reached a point where it didn't have the strength left to hold on to the panic. He felt a fatalistic calm coming down on him. _Just let go_ , a voice in his head whispered. _It's no use anyway. Sim can't do anything to help you. You know he can't tear the vine apart, and the knife and the phase pistol are still in the backpack. Your phase pistol would be of no use here anyway. Just open your mouth and stop fighting._

His eyelids began to droop. If this was his fate then so be it. He would drown like his great-uncle.

Sim was back to blow air into Malcolm's lungs, but the cloudy haze didn't vanish. The voice in Malcolm's head changed and suddenly it was that of his father talking to him. " _I raised you to join the Navy and not to drown on an alien planet,_ " he said sternly. Although Malcolm had his eyes closed, he could clearly see his father before him, floating in the water as if he were a fish _. "I told you that you had to learn how to swim, Malcolm. Now swim. You know how to do it. Swim!"_ There was his father's boat and Malcolm tried to reach it _. "Please, father, let me in,"_ he pleaded, but his father shook his head. _"You have to learn how to swim, Malcolm."_ Malcolm struggled against the water. Desperately, he watched his father disappear in the distance. _"Don't leave me,"_ he cried. _"I'm drowning."_ His father nodded, regret written on his face. _"I know. Just let go. It's senseless to cling onto life. You're dead."_

 _"No, I'm not,"_ Malcolm shouted _. "I won't die if you help me."_

Another person appeared beside his father _. "Don't listen to him,"_ the person said and although Malcolm had never met him, he knew it was his great-uncle. _"You don't need him, Malcolm, you can help yourself. Don't give up the fight. Your friends are going to save you. Just hang on."_

His great-uncle came up to him and took him by the shoulders. Shaking him violently, he repeated his last words: _"Hang on, Malcolm, just hang on."_

Malcolm blinked and suddenly his father and his great-uncle were gone. It was Sim who was trying to shake him out of his reverie. Malcolm tried to focus on him, realizing where he was, but it was less painful to return to the hazy visions of his mind. He felt air fill his lungs but it didn't matter anymore.

The vine tugged at his leg as if the plant were checking whether its prey was still alive. Malcolm could feel the growing pressure on his eardrums, his lungs were aching more with every second and he couldn't find the strength to keep struggling against his fate. Blackness clouded his senses and the plant started to pull him deeper. Malcolm didn't care. A welcoming darkness had appeared that would take away all his misery. But something was tugging at the collar of his uniform and stopping his movement. The mouth-to-mouth he got this time wasn't enough to drive away the blackness and slowly Malcolm surrendered. His mouth opened but instead of water flowing in there was another gush of air. Something dug into his shoulders, but not even the pain could bring him back. The last thing Malcolm felt was a sudden movement, but he didn't know whether it was up or downwards. Then complete blackness engulfed him.


	10. Chapter 10

Trip broke through the water's surface only a second after Sim, who had grabbed Malcolm under the armpits in order to drag him to the surface.

"How is he?" Trip gasped.

With effort, Sim pulled Malcolm away from the ravine, to a place where he was able to stand on solid ground. "He's unconscious," he stated, bringing his ear to Malcolm's mouth. "But he's breathing," he added in relief. "Although very shallowly."

"He must've gotten water in his lungs. You have to bring him to the bank as fast as possible."

Sim was panting and gasping, and trying to breathe deeply to refill his lungs with air. Trip could see clearly that he was beat, and worried how Sim could possibly drag an unconscious body over the deep spot and across to the other bank.

Suddenly Malcolm started to cough violently. His body was shaking and trembling and Sim held him against his chest. Instinctively, Malcolm tried to get free, but Sim held him in a gentle grip. "It's okay, Malcolm, you have to get rid of the water in your lungs."

Malcolm complied, coughing more and more until a small trace of water began to trickle out of his mouth. Exhausted, he laid his head on Sim's shoulder and closed his eyes again.

Sim looked over to Trip. "He'll make it," he said, relief clearly written on his face.

"Thanks to you."

"And to you." Sim smiled wearily. "I wouldn't have had a chance without the knife. And it was high time that we freed him. He had lost it down there. He kept starin' into nothingness and didn't even notice me givin' him mouth-to-mouth. And givin' him air under water was difficult enough even with his co-operation."

"Can you bring him to the bank?"

Determination in his eyes, Sim nodded. "What about you?"

"I think I can manage the rest of the way on my own."

"But I can see that you're in pain. It was too much for you."

Trip sighed. "At the moment neither of us can do anythin' about it. I'll just take things easy. Now, I have plenty of time to reach the bank. But you go and get Malcolm out of the water."

"Okay." Sim held Malcolm, who still had his eyes closed, in a firm grip and dragged him to the bank.

Trip watched them move off, chewing on his lip. The confident façade he had put on quickly vanished. Now that the rush of adrenaline had subsided he felt the pain in his legs even more. They were hurting like hell and his arms were trembling. A shiver ran down his spine and despite the warm water he felt cold. Blood was still flowing from his wound and he felt as if the water was washing away all his strength. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Now pull yourself together, Tucker, he thought. You can rest when you have reached the bank. Trip sighed, steeled himself against the pain and slowly began to make his way to the other side of the river.

* * *

 

Trip was gasping for air when he finally reached the river bank. Carefully, he sat down where the slope began, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He simply couldn't go on anymore. Waves of pain were washing through both his legs, he could feel the blood pounding in his ears and the moisture on his forehead wasn't water, but sweat. He knew that he was running a fever and the cold shiver that ran down his back didn't surprise him.

"Trip?" a gentle voice said next to him. It cost Trip more strength than he had left to merely open his eyes.

"Hold on," Sim said. "I'll help you up the slope."

"No, please don't," Trip wearily whispered, his voice only a faint slur. "I can't bear the pain any longer. Just leave me here."

"I can't do that, Trip, and you know it. You have to get your legs out of the water."

Moistening his lips, Trip glanced at his legs, swallowing at the sight. His right leg was as thick as a balloon and the skin he could see through the torn leg of his uniform looked like it would crack any moment. The protruding bone in his left leg looked even worse. Trip was sure that it had shifted slightly. Maybe that was the reason why the wound had started bleeding again so fiercely.

"How's Malcolm?" he tried to change the subject.

"He's exhausted and still throwin' up water. But he's fully conscious again."

"I'm amazed that we got him out at all." Trip tried to smile but it turned into a painful grimace.

"Without you it would've been impossible to help him. C'mon, Trip, one last effort. I'll take you up the slope to Malcolm and then I'll get the stretcher and the backpack."

"Just leave the stuff over there. You're beat as well, Sim. You can't go back again."

"But I have to do it. You know that we need the medkit and the stretcher. But first I'm goin' to take you up the slope. The water doesn't do you any good. It's only a few more meters."

Trip nodded in resignation and wrapped his hands around Sim's neck. Sim grabbed him under the armpits and as carefully as possible dragged Trip up the slope.

When his splinted legs dragged over the ground, Trip thought he would black out from the pain. Although he was biting his lips, he couldn't suppress a moan.

"Hold on, Trip," Sim said in a reassuring voice. "We've almost made it."

Eventually, Sim let Trip slide to the ground. Lying beside Malcolm, Trip tried to catch his breath, which was still coming in ragged gasps.

Sim looked at him with sympathy. "I'll be back as fast as I can," he promised and with a last glance at his injured friends, he went down the slope.

* * *

 

When the pain had relented somewhat, Trip tiredly propped himself up on his elbows, watching Sim as he waded through the water. Malcolm groaned beside him. Trip turned his head to look at his friend. Malcolm was sitting there, a hand pressed against his shoulder that had begun bleeding again, staring into nothingness.

Trip frowned. "Hey Malcolm, how're you doin'?"

Malcolm didn't seem to hear him. He was shivering and his hands were trembling slightly.

"I was drowning," he whispered barely audibly and Trip got the impression that Malcolm was talking to himself. "I was actually drowning."

"No, you weren't," Trip said a little louder than usual to get Malcolm's attention.

Malcolm sighed deeply, eventually looking at Trip. "It's the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I'd rather fight all of the Xindi than to go through something like that again."

"It must've been scary."

"Scary?" Malcolm snorted. "It was plain horrible." He licked his lips. "How long was I under water?"

"I don't know exactly. Ten to fifteen minutes maybe. I don't know how long it took me to get the knife from the backpack."

Malcolm turned to him in surprise. "You got the knife?" he asked. "Sorry, I still don't know exactly what happened."

"Sim managed to cut you loose and then we both dragged you to the surface."

"You too?"

"I helped you breathe while Sim was cutting the vine."

"I can't remember any of it."

"You were barely conscious. I'm glad we managed to get you out."

"I'm so sorry."

"There's no reason to feel sorry, Malcolm. It wasn't your fault."

"How on earth could you fetch the knife with broken legs?"

Trip grimaced. "I promised you not to let you drown, remember?"

Malcolm threw a glance at Trip's legs. "They look awful."

Trip nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it wasn't easy. But like I said, we couldn't let you drown."

Malcolm swallowed. "You two saved my life." His voice faltered.

"You told me to return the favor, and that was what I did." Trip smiled, but quickly sobered up again. "Forget about it, Malcolm. You would've done the same for me. And for Sim. It's okay. I'm only glad we succeeded. I didn't like the idea of you endin' up as plant food."

Malcolm started to cough violently, causing Trip to frown in concern.

"I'm okay," Malcolm said in between bouts of coughing.

Trip eyed Malcolm carefully, and noticed discomfort in his friend's eyes. "Tell me what's on your mind, Malcolm."

Malcolm stared at the ground. "I panicked," he said in a soft tone of voice.

Trip sighed. All he wanted to do was go to sleep but he couldn't leave Malcolm beating himself up about nothing. "You were drownin', Malcolm. What did you expect? That you'd be able to keep your senses together and think rationally? Anyone would have panicked, even someone who's not usually afraid of the water. I can't even start to imagine how horrible it must've been for you."

"With a little more rational thinking I would've been able to free myself," Malcolm insisted.

"Yeah, sure. If there was one man on Earth who can still think rationally when he's stuck under water and drownin', it would be Malcolm Reed." Trip reached over and put his hand on Malcolm's arm. "Don't put yourself down because you were panickin'. It was only natural. Don't give yourself a hard time for bein' human."

"But…"

"Stop it, Malcolm. You don't have to play the hero all the time. It wasn't your fault. And thank goodness you're alive. That's the only important thing."

Malcolm considered Trip's words, then he grinned lopsidedly. "I'm sure I'm going to have nightmares till the end of my days."

Trip fell silent, swallowing. Malcolm didn't need to tell him about nightmares. He felt really sorry for his friend.

"Hey," Malcolm smiled at him and it was a genuine smile. "I'll be fine."

"That's good to hear." Trip decided to drop the subject and shooed away some of the insects that tried to settle on him. "I guess the ointment has definitely washed off. I thought it was supposed to be waterproof."

"Waterproof doesn't include diving and staying under water." Malcolm squashed one of the insects on his leg.

Trip turned his head. "Sim's back."

Sim was dragging the makeshift stretcher up the slope. He looked pale and exhausted and Trip began to worry whether he would pass out cold right in front of their eyes. Letting go of the backpack, Sim sat down heavily beside Trip, trying to breathe deeply.

"What is it, Sim?" Trip asked gently.

"I'm feelin' kinda sick," Sim admitted. "Just give me a minute."

Sim had hardly finished speaking when he started to retch, but nothing came out except for a few droplets of spit. After a few more deep breaths he seemed to have regained some strength. "How are the two of you doin'?"

"I'm fine," Malcolm mumbled and Trip nodded. "Me too. We only need some more of Phlox' ointment."

"Yeah, I noticed that it had worn off. What about the pain, Trip?"

"It's faded a little."

"Ah, I see. It's still hurtin' like hell." Sim looked up and Trip knew there was no use in contradicting him.

Sim opened the backpack and handed Trip the ointment. "What about you, Malcolm? Are you in pain? And I want the truth; don't give me that "I'm fine" crap again."

"My shoulder hurts a little and my chest is burning," Malcolm admitted truthfully. "But it could be worse."

"D'you need painkillers?"

"I understand that we have only one dosage left. And I think someone else needs it more than I do."

Sim nodded. He had expected this answer from Malcolm. Trip needed the painkiller badly.

When the hypospray hissed against his neck, Trip let out a deep sigh. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. Tell me when the pain is fadin'. I have to apply a tourniquet to the wound to stop it from bleedin'."

"I was hopin' that you wouldn't notice."

Sim busied himself with Trip's leg. "You don't mean that, Trip. Just look at your leg, it's bloody all over. There was even a red puddle around the place where the backpack lay. I'm sorry I didn't think of takin' care of your leg before we got into the water. I should have remembered that the warm water would increase the blood flow."

Trip grimaced when Sim tightened the tourniquet. "Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have been necessary. You couldn't know what would happen."

Sim nodded, asking Trip to hand him the tube of ointment. He crouched down beside Malcolm. "Can you apply it yourself?" he asked.

"Of course, just squeeze it onto my fingers."

"You can't apply it onto your right hand," Trip said.

Malcolm shot him an annoyed glance, but Sim smiled. "I'll help you, Malcolm."

"I can do it," Malcolm insisted.

"Don't be silly," Sim scolded him gently. "There's nothin' wrong with acceptin' a little help." Sim applied the gel to Malcolm's hand and then on his own face and hands.

"Okay, I'm finished. And I think we'd better get goin'."

"Now give it a rest, Sim," Trip objected. "We're totally beat. All of us. You can barely keep your eyes open. You should rest a while."

"But we don't have the time, Trip. You know we have to catch the window in the atmosphere."

Malcolm checked the time. "We won't make it anyway, Sim. There's only half an hour left. We're too late."

"Maybe you could make it without me?" Trip wondered.

Malcolm sighed. "Don't even think about it, Commander. The next window will open in about three and a half hours. We have enough time to rest now, get to the shuttlepod and catch another hour of sleep before we get out of here."

Sim wasn't convinced. "I would prefer to rest in the shuttlepod. It's still a kilometer to go and you never know what's waitin' for us on our way."

"That's true," Trip agreed. "But you have to take a break now, Sim. There's no use in you collapsin' on the way."

Sim sighed. It wasn't that he didn't like the idea of getting a break, but he was afraid that he'd never find the strength to get up again if he lay down now. Eventually, it was his legs that made the decision. They buckled under him and Sim had no other choice than to comply.

* * *

 

Sim stopped in his tracks, panting. He wished he could wipe the sweat from his forehead, but to do so he would have had to put down Trip's stretcher and it would be almost impossible to lift it up again. Sim wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to keep this up, dragging Trip through the forest. He had slept for half an hour until the persisting beep from the communicator had woken him up. None of them had had the strength to get up and reach for the comm. devices in the backpack, although they knew that the captain would be worried if his call wasn't answered. When the beep faded away, telling them that the window in the atmosphere had closed again, they had all experienced a strange feeling of loneliness. Once again, Enterprise was out of reach. Sim had tried to go to sleep again, but to no avail. The short rest period hadn't been refreshing anyway. He still felt tired and exhausted and every step cost him quite an effort.

Malcolm looked at him. "Let me help you," he offered. "I could take one of the handles."

Sim didn't even have the breath to answer. Wordlessly, he let Malcolm take the left handle and clung to the right one with both hands. Malcolm didn't feel very well, either. He was still shaking slightly and Sim was sure that his mind still struggled with the memories of his horrible experience. It would take him some time to come to terms with the ordeal he had undergone.

Together they managed to drag the makeshift stretcher a bit further. Trip had fallen silent and Sim took it as a reassuring sign that his pain eventually had subsided.

Malcolm looked around. "Stop, Sim, I'm not quite sure whether we're heading the right way. We have to check our direction."

"Okay." Carefully, they set the stretcher down. Sim opened the backpack to get the scanner. He smiled when he glanced at Trip, who had his eyes closed and was looking young and vulnerable.

"He's fallen asleep," Sim whispered to Malcolm.

Malcolm stepped up beside him and, smiling as well, kneeled down to wipe the sweat off Trip's forehead. The smile on his face, however, vanished when he looked closely at his friend. "Trip?" he called anxiously. "Trip, can you hear me?"

Sim's heart sank. "He's not sleepin', is he? He's unconscious."

Malcolm nodded. "He has lost too much blood."

Sim cursed. "And we're stuck here on the planet for two more hours, maybe more. He needs to see Phlox."

"But Phlox isn't here. Let's just get him to the shuttlepod as quickly as possible."

Sim stowed the scanner away in his pocket. "We have to turn slightly to the right. We have only 280 meters more to go."

"Then let's get moving." With his good hand, Malcolm took the handle and waited until Sim had taken a firm hold of his as well. Slowly, they lifted the stretcher and moved on.

* * *

 

"What a beautiful sight," Sim murmured as they entered the clearing. "Have you ever seen somethin' as wonderful as that?" He pointed to the shuttlepod, which stood there glittering in the sun.

"In fact, I have," Malcolm answered wryly. "You have no idea how beautiful the sight of the world can be when you were just saved from a near-drowning. But I have to admit that I'm glad we've made it."

Malcolm opened the hatch and checked inside while Sim undid the straps that held Trip on the bulkhead. Together they lifted the engineer onto one of the benches. Using the medical scanner, Malcolm examined Trip. He bit his lip when he studied the readings.

"That bad?" Sim asked worriedly.

"Like I said, he's lost a lot of blood. He would need a transfusion."

Sim frowned. "I believe I saw a transfusion device in the medkit."

"That's right," Malcolm said, still looking at Trip. "But we don't have any blood, and even if we had, we don't know Trip's blood type."

"We don't have to."

Surprised, Malcolm turned around and saw Sim smile.

"Tell me where you could find a better blood donor for Trip than me."

Slowly, Malcolm nodded. "You're right." He shook his head in annoyance. "I guess I've still got water in my brain. It still refuses to think straight."

Sim sat down on the bench beside Trip. "Do you know how to use the device?"

"Not really, but it can't be difficult. You only have to put the right pressure sleeve on your arm just above the elbow and the other one at the same place on Trip's arm. The device will do the rest."

"Sounds easy."

Malcolm handed Sim a small bottle with a clear liquid. "You'll want to use the disinfectant first. You and Trip aren't exactly clean."

It was pretty easy to apply the device. With a little help from Sim, Malcolm could do it with one arm. "You should lie down," he advised Sim.

"But the tube isn't long enough to reach to the other bench. I'm fine, Malcolm, I can rest while I'm sittin' here."

Malcolm turned on the device. Sim flinched when he felt a sharp sting on the inside of his elbow and then they could see his blood flow through the tube directly into Trip's vein. Malcolm checked the speed of the transfusion.

"You think he will make it?" Sim asked.

"I guess you can tell better than I can," Malcolm answered.

"Then he'll make it," Sim said determinedly.

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Malcolm checked the amount of blood that Trip had received. Studying Sim's face which was getting paler by the minute, Malcolm reached out to shut down the device.

Sim frowned. "Do you think it's enough?"

"I don't know," Malcolm admitted. "But you're not really fit, either. You need your blood for yourself. You've already given him almost half a liter."

Sim laid his hand on Malcolm's arm. "Don't," he pleaded. "A little more. Just to be sure."

Malcolm wasn't convinced. "There's no logic in giving Trip all your blood and dying from the loss yourself."

Sim smiled. "Trust me, Malcolm, I can do without half a liter."

Looking at Trip, Malcolm nodded. "Okay, but only 100 milliliters more. Then I'll cut the flow."

"Fair enough." Sim closed his eyes and tried to relax.


	11. Chapter 11

Malcolm sat on the bench and watched Sim and Trip. He was deeply worried. Neither man looked well. It was to be expected that Trip's condition would deteriorate, but Malcolm couldn't understand why Sim was looking so pale. It had cost him a great effort to drag Trip through the forest, not to mention Malcolm's strenuous rescue, but Sim was a strong young man who should be able to put up with some strain. Could it be that Sim's general physical condition wasn't as good as Trip's? Given the fact that Sim had never left Enterprise before and had never had to exert himself, it could indeed be possible. Letting his gaze wander from Sim to Trip, Malcolm wondered how he had ever mistaken them. It was so obvious who was Trip and who was Sim. They had the same features, the same manner of moving, the same characteristic gestures, but all the same they looked different and it wasn't because of the nasty bruise that was beginning to form on Sim's cheek.

Malcolm frowned. "What's that?"

When Sim opened his eyes and gave him a questioning look, Malcom ran his hand across his own cheek. "You've got a bruise there. Where did it come from?"

The corner of Sim's mouth twitched a little. "Guess it was a certain security officer's boot."

Malcolm's eyes widened in dismay. "I kicked you?"

"You were panickin', Malcolm," Sim reassured him. "It's only natural that you lashed out. Unfortunately I got in the way of your foot when I tried to tear the vine apart."

"I'm sorry," Malcolm muttered.

"It wasn't your fault. You weren't quite yourself. Just forget about it."

Malcolm nodded, swallowing. "Have I thanked you for saving my life?"

Sim smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

Malcolm licked his lips. "You know, in the beginning, I felt somewhat uncomfortable in your presence. Looking at you and knowing that Trip was lying in Sickbay on the brink of dying felt awkward."

"I understand. It wasn't easy for anybody."

"But I've realized that you're not only Trip's clone. You're an independent human being who makes his own decisions. Maybe they're the same decisions Trip would make, but it is obvious that although you have Trip's memories, you're not him. You're an individual."

"So you don't feel uncomfortable in my presence any longer?"

"No, that feeling passed a long time ago. What I wanted to say is, I consider you my friend and not because you look and act like Trip, but because you are you."

"Thanks, Malcolm. That means a lot."

Malcolm nodded, standing up to get over the embarrassment this confession had caused him. He stopped the blood transfusion and removed the device. Studying Trip's face, he stated, "He's looking better."

"That's good." Sim got up, but suddenly he stumbled and reached blindly for support.

Malcolm steadied him until Sim stopped swaying. "Dizzy?" Malcolm asked.

Sim only nodded, biting down on his lip, hard.

Malcolm led him to the other bench and helped him to lie down. "I think that's normal. You just lost half a liter of blood. Get some rest."

Sim swallowed and closed his eyes. "What about you? There's no bench left."

"Doesn't matter. I couldn't go to sleep now anyway. I'm going to get the shuttle ready for take-off."

"D'you know when the next window will open?" Sim's voice was only a low whisper and Malcolm had to strain his ears to understand him.

"No, not exactly. We'll have to fly to the region where the windows open and simply try to catch it as it begins to form."

"You can't do the pre-flight check with only one arm. I'll help you."

"I'll manage, Sim. You can help me later on. First you have to rest."

Sim complied far too obediently, closing his eyes. After casting him a worried glance, Malcolm went to the helm.

As he checked the instruments, a smile began to tug at his lips. "Look at this," he muttered when he realized what he was looking at. "T'Pol sent us the exact data for the next window," he said over his shoulder. "I guess the captain told her to do so when we didn't answer his call. That will make things a lot easier."

He turned around when he heard a sharp hiss behind him. Sim had dug his fingers in the grey fabric of his uniform, in the center of his chest. He was gasping for air.

"What is it, Sim?" Alarmed, Malcolm jumped off the chair. He knelt down next to Sim, who was panting and obviously in a lot of pain, pressing both his hands onto his chest.

"What is it?" Malcolm asked anxiously.

"Could be a heart-attack." The words were so soft that Malcolm wasn't sure if he had understood them right.

"A heart-attack?" he asked incredulously. "Why would you suffer a heart-attack?" Without waiting for an answer, Malcolm lifted Sim's upper body and leaned his friend against the bulkhead in order to ease his breathing and prevent the blood from his legs from running to his heart and putting more strain to it than it could handle. He remembered that his grandfather had had a weak heart and that he had always had a small box with nitroglycerin pills in his pocket. Malcolm rummaged in the medkit, but he knew that he wouldn't find anything useful. Members of an away mission weren't supposed to suffer from a heart condition and of course the box wasn't equipped for all possible occasions. Only the scanner would be of any help, but simply to confirm Sim's suspicion. Malcolm had just switched on the small device when Sim sighed and started to relax. His pain seemed to ease and Malcolm swallowed in relief. Perhaps it hadn't been that bad. Watching Sim writhing in pain had almost driven him crazy and the helpless feeling had rapidly turned into despair. If it had indeed been Sim's heart, it would be essential to take him to a doctor immediately. But they were stuck on this planet for another hour. Malcolm laid the scanner aside to steady Sim who had started to tremble.

Sim took a shaky breath. "I think it's over," he croaked.

"Why would you think it was a heart-attack? Perhaps it was only the exhaustion that made itself felt."

"I don't know. No matter what it was, it hurt like hell." Sim tried to breathe deeply, but grimaced in pain as he did so.

"I'm sorry, Sim," Malcolm said. "Our marathon through the woods was a little more than you should have taken on."

"You had no way of knowin'," Sim whispered. "I have a weak heart. It's a side effect of the enzyme."

"A weak heart? What do you mean by this? Congestive heart failure?" Malcolm startled. If Sims heart was slowly but surely failing to pump blood through his veins, he should have never come along on the mission.

"No." Sim took a deep breath. "It's not that. See, it's not only my heart that's not workin' right, it's most of my vital organs. My metabolism is losing its strength ... as I said, it's a side effect of the enzyme."

"How long have you known?"

"Phlox told me yesterday. But he thought I was fit for the mission as long as I didn't overexert myself. He said my heart would be fine, as long as I was careful."

Malcolm snorted. "Yes, and you followed his orders to the letter. You should have told us, Sim. We would've never allowed you to …"

Sim cut him short. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you. And besides, what d'you think I should have done? Leave Trip in the forest? Leave you under the water to die? Sometimes you just don't have a choice."

Malcolm nodded slowly. He could see Sim's point. But that didn't help him now. He was stuck here in the shuttle with two dangerously ill friends and there was still another hour he would have to sit around doing nothing before he could take them back to Enterprise.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked.

Sim licked his lips. "I would like to have some water."

Malcolm took the water bag and unscrewed the cap with his teeth.

When he knelt down with the bag, Sim suddenly let out a cry. Again, he grabbed for his chest, cried out once more, then he went limp.

"Sim!" Malcolm let the bag drop to the floor, not caring that all the water was spilled. "Sim, hang on. Please hang on."

Sim's head fell to one side. His face was ashen. With shaking fingers, Malcolm checked for his pulse and sighed in relief when he could feel a faint and shaky throbbing. Sim was still alive but Malcolm had no idea how bad his condition was. He took the scanner and recalibrated it. When he saw the diagnosis on the small display, Malcolm swallowed hard. Sim's coronary artery had spasmed, cutting off the blood flow to his heart and causing the heart attack. His metabolism, already weakened by the enzyme, hadn't known how to deal with the strain, and had eventually "short-circuited", breaking down like an overloaded engine. Unfortunately for Sim, the short-circuit had occurred in the most vital of organs, his heart. And if he didn't get professional assistance soon, he might not survive another attack.

For another moment or two, Malcolm stared at the readings on the display. Then he laid the scanner aside and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of silent despair.

* * *

 

Slowly, Malcolm unwrapped the bandages that held his arm to his chest. With two of his crewmates unconscious he needed both his hands. He flexed his hand and tentatively rolled his shoulder but stopped with a pained grimace. It would be best not to move his shoulder more than was absolutely necessary. He reached for some blankets to cover Sim and Trip, and fastened the straps around each man so they wouldn't fall off the benches. Trip was still running a fever, but he didn't look as pale as before. Sim, however, was looking even worse. Malcolm sighed, checking for the thousandth time how much time had passed. The minutes went by at a snail's pace. His friends were both in urgent need of a doctor, but they were still here on the planet's surface and he couldn't do anything but wait and pray that Trip and Sim would hold on until they were back on Enterprise where Phlox could treat them.

* * *

 

Malcolm fired the thrusters. The steady humming of the engines gave him a reassuring feeling. Finally, he was able to do something. Ignoring the increasing pain in his shoulder that came with the movement, he worked the controls. He threw a short glance over his shoulder to the benches. "Don't give up on me, you two, we're going home."

Several minutes later he reached the outer layers of the atmosphere and held the shuttle in a waiting position. The data T'Pol had sent indicated that the next window would be a very small one and would be safe for passage through for only a minute. That was too little time to cross all the layers of interference. Malcolm breathed deeply to fight his nerves. He had to get closer. If he missed the window they would be stuck on the planet for another eleven hours. He was sure that neither Trip nor Sim would survive that long.

Slowly, he approached the coordinates, keeping a watchful eye on the controls. He stopped when some of the monitors started to flicker. He bit his lip as he calculated the distance. They were still too far away. There was no way he could slip through the window within a minute if he didn't get closer. He missed Trip's help. The engineer would have been able to tell him how much the interference would affect the controls and how much closer he could come without the shuttle sustaining severe damage when the window opened.

A minute and a half to go. "Now or never," Malcolm muttered to himself and boosted the engines.

The helm console began to spark when Malcolm steered the shuttle through the outer layer of interference. The vessel rocked and shook, but Malcolm didn't have the time to adjust the controls. Speeding through the atmosphere, he was relieved when the interference began to subside. The comm. started to beep. "Sorry, Captain, I'm a little short on time right now," Malcolm muttered, concentrating on finding the exact coordinates to slip through the window. All of a sudden, the readings on the displays changed and he knew he'd made it. Sighing in relief, he scanned for Enterprise and set a course.

Glancing back he made sure that his passengers were still lying on the benches, and then opened a channel. "Reed to Enterprise."

The answer came within an instant. "This is Archer. We were worried that you wouldn't make it. Report."

"Trip and Sim are both unconscious. Trip is running a high fever and Sim has suffered a heart-attack."

"A heart-attack?" Archer repeated incredulously.

"Yes, according to Phlox Sim has a weak heart as a side effect of the enzyme treatment."

"I'll notify Phlox." Malcolm could hear Archer ordering Travis to set an intercept course. "We'll rendezvous in three minutes, Malcolm."

"Thanks, Captain." Malcolm allowed himself to relax a bit until Enterprise came in sight. His left shoulder was sore and he could barely move his arm. But he still had to go through the docking procedure. He positioned the shuttle under the open hatch and sighed in relief when he felt the jolt of the docking clamp attaching itself. They had made it.

Hearing the deck pressurize, Malcolm leaned back in his chair, giving in to his exhaustion. When he heard someone open the hatch he glanced over his shoulder without moving much. "Doctor."

"Lieutenant," Phlox greeted him briefly, already starting to examine Trip and Sim. He ordered his assistants to take Sim to sickbay first, which told Malcolm enough about his friend's condition. Apparently, Sim was even in a worse state than Trip.

"How are you, Lieutenant?" Phlox asked.

"I'm fine, doc. Just take care of Sim and Trip."

Phlox nodded, ordered the second med team to take Trip to sickbay and hurried to climb out of the shuttle's hatch.

Malcolm watched as the two men carefully laid Trip onto the stretcher, secured him and took him out. That was it. He had fulfilled his duty; there was nothing more for him to do. Malcolm closed his eyes.

"Lieutenant?"

Malcolm's eyes flew open, and he tried to get out of the chair. "Captain."

"Easy, Malcolm, I didn't mean to startle you. What happened to your shoulder? It's bleeding."

"I was injured by a flying piece of metal."

"I can't remember you mentioning that when I contacted you the first time."

"Sorry, sir, but we had more important things to discuss than my condition."

Archer smiled. "I see. Come on, I'll take you to sickbay."

Malcolm opened his mouth to tell the captain that Phlox wouldn't have time for him, but he knew that his shoulder needed treatment. Gritting his teeth to not let his weakness and pain show, he climbed out of the chair. Only when his legs buckled under him, did he allow the captain to lend him a supporting Hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Not bothering to open his eyes, Trip let out a deep sigh. Had he fallen asleep? He could hear voices talking, but the stretcher was not moving, so he supposed that Sim and Malcolm were taking a rest.

Just then Trip noticed that his environment had changed. It wasn't as humid and sticky as before and the smell that hung in the air had something familiar. He also realized that he wasn't lying on the hard and uncomfortable bulkhead anymore, but on a material that was much softer. Trip allowed himself a lopsided smile. From what he could gather, he had ended up in sickbay once again. He didn't know how he had come to be here, but all that was important was that they had made it. He concentrated on the voices beside him and recognized Jon. The other one had to be Malcolm, of course. Trip's grin broadened. Phlox must be very happy to have his two most annoying patients together in sickbay.

Eventually, Trip wearily opened his eyes, but only to realize that a curtain was drawn around the bed next to his.

"I appreciate very much what you did," he heard the captain say. "You're really a valuable member of this crew."

Trip raised his eyebrows. _No need to tell Malcolm that,_ _Cap'n_ , he thought. _Malcolm has always been a valuable crewmember."_

"Thanks Cap'n." Trip's jaw dropped. That wasn't Malcolm's voice. Jon was talking to Sim. Trip was bemused. Why would Sim be staying in sickbay?

"I want to apologize for the way I treated you before," Archer continued. "It wasn't fair."

"I understand, Cap'n," Sim answered. "I've always understood. You had no choice. And the events are provin' you right. If you had chosen me instead of Trip you wouldn't have any engineer at all right now."

Trip frowned. What was Sim talking about?

"It was the hardest choice I've ever had to make."

"Y'know, Cap'n, I don't feel like Trip's clone, I feel like his brother. He's family to me. And you do things like this for your family. Savin' Trip's life was the best thing I ever did."

"So you're not angry with me anymore?"

"No, Cap'n."

"You can call me Jon."

There was a little pause. "Thanks, Jon."

Trip could hear the smile in Sim's voice and he smiled as well. There were steps approaching from the other side of the room and then Phlox spoke up. "He has to rest, Captain. I must ask you to leave now." The corner of Trip's mouth twitched sympathetically when he heard the familiar hiss of a hypospray, and realized that Phlox had sent Sim into the land of nod.

Phlox appeared in his range of vision, smiling broadly. "Good evening, Commander. How do you feel?"

"What happened?" Trip asked. "Why is Sim stayin' here? And where is Malcolm? He was injured as well."

Phlox' smile vanished. "There's something I have to tell you, Commander." He inhaled deeply when Archer stepped up beside him.

"I'll tell him, doc."

Phlox inclined his head. "Very well, Captain."

Archer took a chair, his gaze still fixated at Phlox' retreating back.

"What's the matter, Jon?" Trip insisted.

The captain sighed and forced a smile. "I'm glad that you're awake."

"How long have I been out?"

"For almost two days."

Trip startled. "Two days?" he exclaimed incredulously. "I wasn't in a coma again, was I?"

"No, Phlox sedated you. He thought you needed the rest after he operated on your legs."

Anxiously, Trip glanced at his legs, which were hidden under the sheets. Judging from Phlox' words and Archer's serious face, he knew there was something wrong and the only thing he could think of was that something had gone wrong with his legs. "Will I…" Trip licked his lips. "I mean, are they…"

Jon laid a reassuring hand on Trip's shoulder. "They're healing nicely. Phlox has set the bones and he repaired the open fracture in your left leg. By the way, that was quite a sight." Jon shuddered. "But it's like I said, your legs are healing well. Phlox said you can get up in a few days."

Trip exhaled. "That's good to hear. I wasn't so sure about my left leg. I mean, you don't have any use for a limpin' engineer, do you?" For a moment Trip closed his eyes in plain relief. He had never told Sim or Malcolm, but he had been quite worried about his legs. Looking at Jon, he grimaced. "No matter what I'm doin', I seem to end up in sickbay every time. I'm glad I've missed two days already."

"In any case you missed a few treatments with the osmotic eel." Jon smiled. "Malcolm wasn't so lucky."

"Ouch!" Trip winced in sympathy. "How is Malcolm? I thought he would be here as well."

"Phlox had no choice but to release him, or our fine lieutenant would have driven him crazy. But Malcolm has strict orders to rest in his quarters until tomorrow. He has to wear his arm in a sling for another day or two but then his shoulder will be as good as new. Thanks to the osmotic eel," Archer added.

Trip nodded, thoughtfully. He remembered that there had been something Jon was going to tell him. He felt good, Malcolm was going to be okay, so there wasn't much left. "What's the matter with Sim?" he asked bluntly.

Jon sighed. He knew he couldn't postpone the issue any longer. "Did you know that Sim has a weak heart?"

Trip raised his eyebrows. "Why would he have a weak heart? I thought he was a perfect copy of me."

"Actually, he was. But the treatment with the enzyme has affected his heart and his lungs."

"His lungs?" Trip shook his head. "He gave Malcolm mouth to mouth for at least ten minutes. How could he have done that with weak lungs? That can't be."

"Phlox was hoping to find a cure in time. But Sim overexerted himself. Dragging you through the forest, rescuing Malcolm and giving you a blood transfusion when he was already weak was simply too much."

"He gave me a transfusion?"

"Yes. You'd lost too much blood and were already unconscious. Malcolm told me it was the only way to save you."

"But now Sim has to suffer the consequences."

"Malcolm didn't know about his weakened condition, either. He didn't know until Sim suffered a heart attack."

Trip's eyes grew wide with shock. "He had a heart attack?"

Jon bit his lip, nodding silently.

Trip ran his hand over his face. "How bad is it?" When Archer didn't answer, Trip felt his heart begin to race. "Jon!"

"Phlox said he has about 24 hours left. At the most."

Very slowly, Trip looked up, disbelief in his eyes. "He's dyin'?"

"I'm so sorry, Trip."

"No." Trip shook his head. "I don't believe that. Phlox can come up with a treatment. There are measures to treat a simple heart attack with. Phlox has studied the physiology of several species. I'm sure he'll find a cure."

"Trip!" Jon took Trip's shoulders, shaking him gently. "I know it's hard, but there's nothing Phlox can do. Maybe he would've been able to prolong Sim's life if he had suffered the attack here on Enterprise, but as it is, too much time had passed until Phlox could treat him. And the strain Sim put on his body has caused too much damage to his organs."

"He saved our lives," Trip whispered. "Mine and Malcolm's."

"I know, Trip, I know."

"It's not fair, Jon. Why does Sim always have to pay such a high price when he tries to help me?"

"It's never been fair, Trip. It wasn't fair to create a human being only to harvest his tissue and it wasn't fair to force him to die to do so."

"Sim forgave you for that."

"But that doesn't make me feel any better about it."

Trip sighed. "I'm glad you talked to him. I know it means a lot to him hearin' from you that you consider him a valuable member of this crew."

"And he is."

Trip nodded, turning his head. "Would you please open the curtain?"

Jon stood up and drew the curtain aside. Trip swallowed when he saw Sim lying on the bio bed, hooked up to an IV tube. A tube was inserted into his nose to give him additional oxygen. "He looks so peaceful. Does he know…?"

"Yes, he does. He asked Phlox to tell him the truth."

Trip's eyes filled with tears. "How will he…? I mean, how…?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word aloud. "Will he suffer another heart attack?"

"Phlox doesn't think so. His heart will simply slow down until it stops beating."

Trip opened his mouth and closed it again, covering it with his hand. He shook his head and ran his hand over his eyes. "Why?" he finally managed to say. "Tell me why he has to die, Jon. He was so glad to live."

"I don't know, Trip. Things just happen."

"I don't like those things," Trip spat with a teary voice and when he looked at him, Jon knew that Trip was not only thinking of Sim, but also of his sister and seven million people on Earth who had lost their lives in the Xindi attack.

* * *

 

The next morning, when Jon entered sickbay with a tray of food, he could hear Trip arguing with Phlox.

"This lyin' around is drivin' me nuts, doc. My legs feel fine, but my back is hurtin'. I just want to sit up a little."

"Your legs only feel fine because I gave you an analgesic," Phlox answered stoically. "And you're allowed to sit up in your bed, Commander."

"I'd prefer a chair."

Phlox let out a deep sigh. "Commander, do you know what condition your legs were in? You're lucky you didn't lose them. Maybe I'll allow you to get up the day after tomorrow."

"I can't stay in bed for another two days, doc."

"You can and you will, Commander. If not, I wouldn't hesitate to sedate you. The discussion is over." And with that Phlox left, leaving a very puzzled Trip behind.

"Morning, Trip."

"Hey, Cap'n." Trip was still staring at the spot where Phlox had been standing a moment ago.

"What about breakfast?"

Trip nodded and allowed the captain to help him sit up in bed.

"I've never seen Phlox like this," he pondered. "What's the matter with him?"

Jon sat down on a chair, scratching his nose. "I guess it's because of Sim. Phlox considers him a son."

With his mouth full of scrambled eggs, Trip wasn't able to speak, but he threw Archer a questioning glance.

Archer smiled. "I think you're forgetting that Sim was born only three weeks ago here on Enterprise. It was Phlox who raised him. Sim is like a son to him. This is the second time that he's about to lose him. I think it's pretty hard for our doc."

"Not only for him." Trip swallowed, glancing at the next bio bed where Sim was still fast asleep. "Could you talk to Phlox, Cap'n?" he asked. "I just wanna sit beside Sim when he wakes up."

"You didn't tell Phlox that."

Trip only shrugged miserably.

Archer nodded. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."

* * *

 

"Hey Trip. You're awake. I was thinkin' that Phlox would never let you wake up again."

Trip smiled at Sim's attempt to tease him. "How're you feelin'?"

"Weak," Sim admitted. "Nice wheelchair."

Trip groaned and rolled his eyes. Eventually Phlox had relented, and had settled him in a wheelchair with the footrest raised so his splinted legs were comfortably supported. Trip had a feeling that it was only because of Sim that Phlox had allowed him to stay up and he had threatened to put him back to bed at once if he tried to move his legs on his own.

Sim looked at Trip for another minute, then he said, "D'you want to sit here without sayin' anythin'?"

Trip ran a hand over his mouth, searching for words.

"It's not so bad, y'know," Sim said.

Trip flinched. "Not bad?" he exclaimed. "You were the only one we thought to be in perfect health down there and now I learned that you're…" Trip trailed off.

"That I'm dyin'," Sim finished the sentence.

Trip looked away.

"Don't worry, Trip. It's okay."

"How can you say that?"

"Look, I was supposed to die a week ago. I've long ago come to terms with the fact that I was meant to die. But I got a great gift. I got to know you. And it was wonderful to go on this away mission with you and Malcolm."

Trip raised his eyebrows. "Wonderful?"

"Yeah. Pilotin' a shuttle, strollin' through the forest, handlin' dangerous situations, that was so much more than only rememberin' it from your experiences. It gave me a real life and I'm grateful for that."

"It's so unfair, Sim. You should have told us about your heart."

"What sense would it have made to tell you about it? You would've tried to go easy on me whenever you could."

"Course. You'd be in better shape now if we had."

"And then what? What did you expect me to do? Waitin' for help from Enterprise wasn't an option. D'you think I should have left you or should only have shrugged and let Malcolm drown? I have your character, Trip, so tell me what you would have done in my place."

Trip groaned out loud. "That's not fair, Sim."

"Actually, it wouldn't have mattered whether I told you about my condition or not. It was my decision to do the things I did. We didn't have another choice anyway. Would you've tried to keep me from givin' Malcolm mouth-to-mouth if you had known?"

Trip sighed deeply. "I don't know."

"It was the only possibility to save him. And I was up to doin' it. I didn't feel so weak at the time."

"But you did when you gave me your blood."

"I'm glad Malcolm didn't know about my heart condition. It would've been an impossible choice for him to make. The same choice Jon had to make earlier. Choosin' between you and me."

"Malcolm should have kept you from givin' me all your blood."

"It wasn't all my blood, Trip."

"But you couldn't afford it."

"You would've died without it," Sim said softly.

"You don't know that," Trip answered back in an angry tone. He ran his hand over his eyes. "Sorry, Sim, I didn't mean to snap at you. I just can't accept the fact that you're goin' to die because you saved my life."

"I was created to save your life, Trip. It seems to be my fate."

"You're sayin' we're back to square one? That the only reason you exist is to save me and that you have to die in order to do so? Things have changed, Sim. I don't like you sayin' that you were 'created'. You're not merely a creature. Not a part of Phlox' menagerie."

"Well, there was a time when I was."

Trip flinched, looking at Sim, bemused.

"C'mon Trip, you know what I mean. I used to be a Lyssarian larva."

Trip shook his head. "I'll never see you like that."

"But Starfleet would. People on Earth would. Perhaps lettin' me die is the only way to solve this mess, Trip. I'm a clone. You know what people on Earth think about clonin'. I guess Starfleet doesn't even know that I'm still alive. What would happen to me if they found out? They wouldn't let me serve on a starship or the engineerin' corps. And servin' on Enterprise for the time bein' wouldn't work, either. What would I do? Work as your subordinate?"

Trip shook his head and smiled. "No, as my coordinate."

"It wouldn't work, Trip. The crew wouldn't accept two chief engineers. And I'm not a commander, I don't have any rank at all." Sim grinned lopsidedly. "Although I remember how nervous you were when you were promoted."

"It could work," Trip insisted stubbornly.

"How long until the crewmembers complain to the cap'n that I have no right to give orders? Look at Carruthers. He'd be the first one."

"We'll deal with Carruthers."

"You know it wouldn't work."

"But that's not a reason for you to die." Trip bit his lip. Despite his arguments he could see Sim's point. He would never be accepted on Earth. Maybe there would even be a few scientists who would like to get their hands on him and make him their lab rat. And even if they didn't, Sim would always be an outcast on Earth, considered an abomination, like Carruthers had said.

Sim watched him, squeezing his hand. "Our mission was quite successful, y'know."

Trip snapped out of his thoughts. "Yeah, I know, the whole away team endin' up in sickbay. What does that tell us about the officer in charge?"

Sim laughed. His laughter sounded so weak and tired that Trip was deeply shocked.

"The cap'n told me about the padd."

"The padd!" Trip had completely forgotten about the database he had found in the Xindi vessel. "Did it contain any useful data?"

"Actually, it did. Hoshi and T'Pol had to work hard in order to decode it, but they gained a lot of useful data about the Xindi and most of all, about the weapon."

"So it was really a military vessel, despite its small size?"

"Yep. It was on its way to a meetin' with several members of the Xindi Command. The data mentioned some sort of test and also the kemocite they had bought from Gralik. Hoshi is confident that with this data we'll be able to relocate the signature of the probe Gralik had prepared. At least now we know in which area we have to search. If we can track down the kemocite, we'll come across the weapon sooner or later."

"That's good news." It was strangely comforting to Trip to know that their away-mission had at least had a positive outcome on their mission to prevent the Xindi from attacking Earth a second time.

Phlox approached with a tray of food. "I'll allow you to have your lunch here, Commander," he said. "But then I want you to rest for a while."

Trip tried to protest, but he trailed off when Phlox held up a hand. He knew better than to stretch Phlox' patience right now.

While Phlox was checking on Sim, Trip picked at his food. There was even a slice of pecan pie, but Trip couldn't muster any of his usual enthusiasm for his favorite food.

"You have to eat, Trip," Sim said gently.

"What about you?"

"I'm not hungry."

Trip speared a piece of pecan pie and held the fork in front of Sim's mouth. Their eyes met and when Sim opened his mouth they knew that they were both thinking the same thing. Perhaps this was the last thing Sim would ever eat.

They shared the piece of pie, but Trip pushed the sandwich aside. He felt sick and when Phlox came to put him in bed, he decided against starting the usual arguement and complied.

When the ordeal of settling him in bed was done, he sighed in relief. But when he glanced at Sim, he bit his lip. "I don't think I can go to sleep," he told the doctor in a whisper.

Phlox laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'll wake you up if his condition deteriorates. I promise," he said understandingly.

Trip nodded, trying to get past the lump in his throat.

Phlox turned to Sim. "You should get some rest as well," he advised.

Sim shook his head. "I don't want to spend the last hours of my life sleepin'. Please don't make me, Phlox."

The lump turned into a burning sensation in his eyes and Trip wiped a hand across his face. He wasn't going to cry when Sim was prepared to meet his fate so peacefully.

He flinched when Phlox pressed a hypospray against his neck. "It's only a very mild sedative," the doctor explained. "It will help you to relax."


	13. Chapter 13

"Commander? Commander, wake up!"

Sleepily, Trip opened his eyes. Why would Phlox try to wake him? Normally, Phlox would be glad he was sleeping and not getting on the doctor's nerves. Suddenly truth hit him like a ton of bricks and he jumped, feeling a sharp sting of pain going through his legs.

"Easy, Commander, easy." Phlox slipped a supporting hand under his back and helped him sit up.

"Is it time?" Trip asked anxiously.

"His heart-beat has slowed considerably," Phlox told him with a sad expression. "I think he would appreciate you being at his side."

Trip allowed the doctor to help him into the wheelchair and to wheel him over to Sim's bedside. When Phlox adjusted the footrests, Sim opened his eyes.

"Hey Trip," he whispered in a weak voice. "Sleep well?"

Trip nodded. He couldn't speak. Seeing Sim like that hardened the lump in his throat.

"I would like to see Malcolm," Sim said in Phlox' direction. "You think that's possible?"

Trip was sure that the doctor would bend all his medical orders just to fulfill Sim's wishes.

Phlox went over to the comm. and only a few minutes later Malcolm entered sickbay, his left arm in a sling and a sad and knowing smile on his face.

"How are you, Sim?"

Weakly, Sim turned his head and smiled as well. "Thanks for comin' by, Malcolm."

"I wanted to drop by yesterday evening, but Phlox wouldn't let me. He said my shoulder needs rest."

"I won't argue with him on that one, Malcolm. Everybody says that I overexerted myself, but the same goes for you. The pain must've been awful."

"It wasn't so bad, really. It wasn't the first time that some alien piece of metal got stuck in my body."

"Yeah, I know. I guess Phlox' osmotic eel must be a close friend of yours by now. You should give him a name."

Malcolm grimaced which made Sim chuckle. The chuckle turned into a violent cough, though, which reminded the officers why they were there.

Malcolm swallowed. "I'm so sorry, Sim."

"You don't have to be. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's unfair. And it's not least because of me that you have to go through this."

"Don't blame yourself, Malcolm. I was glad that I could help you. I mean it's not that I wouldn't like to live on. But I was actually never supposed to wake up again after the surgery. I was given a second life and I enjoyed it very much."

"It was only a week." Trip stared down at the floor.

"A week which I didn't expect to have. I've gone through this before, Trip. It doesn't scare me."

"But it scares me. I don't want to lose you."

"Neither do I," Malcolm said softly.

"I know and I appreciate your concern. Now don't give me that look, it's kinda pullin' me down to have you lookin' at me like that. What I want to see from you is a smile."

Trip looked at Malcolm and they both tried to get a grip on themselves.

Sim reached for Malcolm's hand. "Havin' gained your friendship means a lot to me, Malcolm. I wanted to thank you."

"I consider you the same good friend Trip is for me," Malcolm said. He grinned lopsidedly. "And that's not because you saved my life, but because you're a great friend too."

Sim grinned and some of the old brightness came back into his eyes.

Malcolm closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. "Some people asked me whether you would like them to come by." He paused. "To say good-bye," he managed eventually.

"Yeah, I would like that." Sim laid his hand on Malcolm's arm. "Thanks for bein' not only Trip's friend, but mine too, Malcolm."

Malcolm nodded. He wanted to say good-bye to Sim, but he simply couldn't. He squeezed Sim's hand, and forced a smile.

* * *

 

Hess, Rostov and Kelly came over from Engineering to see Sim. Trip was deeply affected to see how much they liked his friend and how sad they were at the news. After they had left, Hoshi showed up and Sim smiled delightedly. "Ah, Mommy Hoshi."

Although her eyes were swimming in tears, Hoshi began to laugh. "Mommy Hoshi?"

"Yeah. Don't you know that I picked you as my substitute mom when I was a child?"

Hoshi sat down on the bio bed and took Sim's hand. "You were a wonderful child, Sim."

Sim's eyes sparkled. "Only because I couldn't do all the things Trip did on Earth. A starship has somewhat limited options when it comes to playin' tricks."

"He wants to say that Charles Tucker was a rather naughty kid," Trip chimed in.

Hoshi sighed. "It must be difficult to remember two different lives."

Sim grinned. "I even remember two different deaths." When he saw the shocked expression on Hoshi's face, the grin vanished. "C'mon Hoshi, it's not that I had much of a chance. You knew from the beginnin' that I was goin' to die within two weeks. I lived a week longer than my normal lifespan would've been."

Hoshi wiped her nose. "Yes, I know, but I was hoping… we all were hoping that Phlox would find a way to…" Hoshi's voice faltered.

"You still have Trip, and I'm grateful for that."

Hoshi smiled through her tears. "We all are. And it's only thanks to you he's still alive."

Hoshi got up and placed a gentle kiss on Sim's lips. "Good-bye, Sim. I'll never forget you."

* * *

 

Trip watched Hoshi leave and felt deep regret. Sim knew all about him, but he, Trip, had failed to learn all about Sim. Why had Sim adopted Hoshi as his substitute mother? Trip realized that he had never asked Sim about his own experiences while he grew up on Enterprise. He only knew a few tiny little bits about Sims's life before he had met him, and he felt guilty about his lack of interest. He was willing to bet that Sim could tell him some interesting stories, but now it was too late to talk with him about his childhood.

"I didn't think my death would affect people so much," Sim whispered. His breathing had become more labored during the last fifteen minutes.

"You heard the cap'n," Trip said. "He told you you are a valuable member of the crew. Of course we're affected when one of us is dyin'." Trip swallowed. To say out loud that Sim was dying caused him almost physical pain.

"Will you do me a favor, Trip?"

"Whatever you want."

"Would you please tell our parents about me?"

"Of course I will. You won't be forgotten, Sim. Never."

"That's good to know. Don't mourn too much for me, Trip. I'm not afraid of dyin'. Before the surgery I told the cap'n that I couldn't imagine not bein' here anymore tomorrow. But that has changed. I know I'll be here tomorrow. In you."

Trip couldn't answer. Sim had to stop a few times to catch his breath before he could continue. His face got paler by the minute. Trip tried to fight back his tears, but all his attempts were to no avail and he felt a single drop trickle down his cheek.

His hand still in Trip's hand, Sim shut his eyes and sighed. When he heard footsteps approaching, he prized them open again.

"How do you feel?" Phlox asked, pressing a hypospray against Sim's neck and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Not too bad." Sim smiled at the doctor. "Thanks a lot, Phlox. For all you did for me."

"You're welcome, Sim." Phlox' features had lost their usual cheerfulness, and his eyes were full of sorrow. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't do more."

"You gave me a life, doc. And that was more than I ever could have wished for."

Phlox looked at his scanner and his expression grew even sadder. Trip knew what that meant and his heart felt like a giant fist were squeezing it.

Phlox turned around when he heard a movement behind him.

"I apologize," T'Pol said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not." Phlox patted Sim's shoulder and stepped aside.

Trip regarded T'Pol's grave features. By now he knew her well enough to see past her emotionless façade and he saw that she was affected by Sim's fate as well.

"Hey, T'Pol," Sim said softly. "It's nice to see you."

T'Pol only nodded.

"It's the second time you've come to say good-bye to me."

"It is the logical thing to do."

Sim smiled. "Yeah, it is. Thanks." And with a last glance at T'Pol and the doctor, his eyes drooped shut.

* * *

 

Trip felt a hand on his shoulder. "You should go to bed, Trip," he heard the captain's voice. "Sitting up like this won't do your legs any good."

"Doesn't matter," Trip said flatly. "Right now I don't give a damn about my legs."

Archer glanced at Sim. "How is he?"

"He's been sleepin' for half an hour now. Phlox gave him somethin' to relax. His heart is still beatin', but I don't even know if he's goin' to wake up again."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

Trip shook his head. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I can see that."

"What do you expect, Jon? Sim's like a brother to me. I feel even closer to him than to my real brother."

"That's understandable. You're cut from the same cloth."

Trip laughed under his tears. "Definitely, yes." He looked up. "I'll be fine. I'll manage."

Archer squeezed his shoulder. "Just call me if you need me."

Jon hadn't left sickbay yet when Sim opened his eyes.

"Trip?" It was only a whisper.

"Yeah, I'm here." Trip gave Sim's hand a reassuring squeeze. He swallowed to get past the lump in his throat.

Sim's breathing got slower. "Thanks for bein' there for me," he whispered. "It's been a great time with you."

"Same here," Trip managed.

"Don't be sad, Trip," Sim said, his voice barely audible. "I had a good life. And, y'know, I'm livin' on in you. As long as you live I'll never die. Be careful, Trip. Take care of yourself. And don't look at me like that, you know what you promised me."

With trembling lips, Trip forced a smile.

"That's much better." Sim smiled as well and Trip could see all the love and affection in his eyes.

"I'll never forget you, Sim," he said softly. "Thanks for all that you've done for me."

Sim looked into Trip's eyes, still smiling, but a lonely tear trickled down his cheek. Then Trip felt a last squeeze, the smile slowly vanished and the hand in his hand got limp.

"No!" he yelled, his voice full of pain. He couldn't hold the tears at bay anymore. Starting to sob, he pressed Sim's hand against his cheek, before he laid it beside Sim's body very carefully. With a gentle gesture he wiped away the wet trace that the tear had left on Sim's face.

"Trip." Jon kneeled down beside the wheelchair, pulling his friend into a firm hug.

Trip sobbed into the captain's uniform until he realized what he was doing. "Just give me a minute," he sniffed, trying to get a grip on himself.

"It's okay, Trip." Jon patted his back. "It's okay. You have every right to cry."

* * *

 

Half an hour later Trip still sat beside Sim's bed, his mind blank and his heart aching. It was the second time within a few weeks that he'd lost a member of his family. What made it so difficult was the fact that no one considered Sim to be his family and his family back home didn't even know about his existence. He bit his already sore lips. He hadn't dealt with Lizzie's death yet and now, within a short period of time, he had once again lost someone he had cared for. His grief was choking him, but he didn't cry again. It was a comforting thought that he had been able to be there, had been able to say good-bye and to hold Sim's hand during his last minutes. It made things easier for Trip that he had been there. The fact that he had been lightyears away when Lizzie had died had made her death unreal. He still couldn't accept that she was gone, and kept shoving the thought to the very back of his mind, so he wouldn't have to deal with it.

He heard steps behind him, but didn't bother to turn around.

"Trip?" he heard the captain's voice. "Trip, you have to get some rest. Let me help you back to bed."

Trip only shook his head. "Please don't. I just wanna sit here for a while."

Jon crouched down beside Trip, studying him with worried eyes.

Trip inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. "I can't believe it, Jon," he whispered. "I was so confident that the enzyme would work."

"We all were hoping that it would."

"You too?" Trip allowed himself the slightest of smiles.

"I had to make a very hard decision, but that doesn't mean I didn't like him. Sim wasn't only a copy of you, he was an individual."

"Yeah, Malcolm said the same thing. And he was." Trip looked down at Sim's still body. "I heard what you said to Sim yesterday. I think he was proud that you considered him a friend eventually."

Jon squeezed Trip's shoulder. "It's hard out here in the Expanse and we have to make some hard decisions. Creating Sim and sacrificing his life was one of them. And I'm really glad that he forgave me."

Trip nodded, thinking. "He was glad to live, Jon. He enjoyed every single moment of his life as a human being. You and Phlox gave him this life and he was grateful for that." Trip swallowed and looked up to face his friend. "I'm still alive because of your decision to let Phlox create Sim. I think I never thanked you for that one."

"I never expected your gratitude, Trip. I knew you would have qualms about what we did. And that's okay. But I'm glad you could eventually understand my decision." Jon inhaled deeply, changing the subject. "I thought we could hold the memorial the day after tomorrow. That way your legs have two more days to heal. I'm sure Phlox will allow you to attend."

"Thanks, Jon. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course."

"Please change the duty roster so that Ensign Carruthers will be on duty during the ceremony. I think he's not exactly keen on attendin', and I just don't want him there."

Jon raised his eyebrows, but he didn't press the matter. "I'll do it," he promised.

Trip nodded, looking over Sim. "We should get him dressed."

"I guess Phlox will take care of it."

"I want to do it, Jon. Maybe Malcolm and Hoshi can help me."

"Okay."

"Cap'n?"

"What is it?"

"This grey uniform. I know that Sim's not a member of Starfleet, but I think he has earned… I want to say, he…"

"Give him one of your uniforms, Trip. That's okay. You're right, he has earned it."

Looking down at Sim's peaceful face, Trip forced a smile. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he whispered and laid a gentle hand on the silent heart of his similitude.


	14. Epilogue

"The most difficult test facing any captain, any crew is the loss of a shipmate. We've come here to honor one of our own. In the time we knew him he showed us just how much one life can truly matter. We willl never forget what he did for us and for the ship he loved so much. We will go forward with renewed determination to complete this mission so that his sacrifice won't just have been for the people on this ship but for all the citizens on Earth."

Trip listened to the captain's words, his gaze steadily fixed on the torpedo tube where Sim lay. Phlox had understood his wish to stand during the ceremony and had given him a pair of crutches so he would be able to do so. As it was, the crutches were now lying across the wheelchair that stood next to the wall and not even Phlox' stern looks could keep Trip from standing at attention without any aids. He was glad that his legs had already healed enough so that he was able to do so at least for a while. His lower left leg was still splinted up to his knee, but when Phlox had removed the splints from his right leg this morning, Trip had tried to stand up as soon as the doctor had gone out the door. The experiment went amazingly well, although he hadn't been able to take more than one or two unsteady steps. When the ceremony had begun, Malcolm and Travis had hovered beside him, not really convinced that he was able to stand alone, and both were ready to lend him a supporting hand should he sway. When they both had to take their places beside the coffin, Hoshi unobtrusively stepped up to his side, if only to give him some moral support. His legs were hurting, but the physical pain wasn't as bad as the emotional one. His eyes were dry, but his heart was crying. Crying for his friend, his brother, for the man who had understood him like no other ever had, the man who had given his life for him not only once but twice.

Trip's face was motionless as he watched Malcolm and Travis close the coffin, only the way he bit down on his lips to prevent them from trembling betrayed his emotions. When the tube was shot into space, he felt Hoshi's hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

Trip didn't notice the shy glances of sympathy some crew members gave him. No one dared to disturb his silent mourning. Eventually, Trip felt Travis slide the crutches under his arms. "I don't think Sim would have wanted you to collapse at his ceremony," the ensign said softly.

Trip nodded thankfully and tried to gather his thoughts, which were still out there with Sim. He was still staring at the torpedo port when the crew started to leave.

Malcolm approached. "I think I'll get you back to sickbay," he said but Trip didn't react.

"Trip?" Malcolm touched his arm.

Trip flinched, almost losing his balance.

"Come on, Trip, sit down."

With Travis' help Malcolm settled Trip in the wheelchair, worriedly studying his friend, whose mind was still miles away. Suddenly, the captain was at their side, nodding to his officers.

"I'll get him back."

Offering no resistance, Trip allowed the captain to wheel him along the corridors. He was hardly able to see his surroundings through the haze that clouded his vision, but suddenly he realized where they were heading.

"Please, Jon, don't take me to sickbay, I can't stand bein' there right now. Sickbay is much too crowded."

Jon frowned. He understood perfectly well that Trip wanted to be alone now and that the daily routine in sickbay would be unsettling for him. On the other hand he doubted that Phlox would agree to release his patient just now. Not after the stunt he had pulled in the armory.

"But you need to get some rest," he tried to convince his friend. "I don't think that Phlox was overly pleased with you standing there without crutches during the whole ceremony. I'm sure you're in pain right now."

"Phlox gave me some analgesics to help me through it. He's been very kind."

"He knows what Sim meant to you." Archer considered, thoughtfully looking at Trip's slumped shoulders. "Okay, I'll take you to your quarters and take the responsibility when Phlox wants to know where you are. He will have my head."

"Thanks, Cap'n."

After taking him to his quarters, Archer helped Trip getting out of his shoes. With raised eyebrows he noticed that Trip hadn't fastened the lacing on his right boot. The ankle wasn't swollen anymore, but Archer was willing to bet that wearing boots was still sort of uncomfortable if not painful for Trip. As he carefully pulled the right boot from the ankle, Trip gritted his teeth.

"You _are_ in pain," Archer realized.

"It's not so bad as long as I don't move my legs."

"And don't stand on them," Archer added, helping Trip to settle down in bed. "Do you want me to help you get out of your uniform?"

"No, just leave it as it is." Trip didn't tell the captain that he was reluctant to touch his legs since every movement sent bolts of pain through them, but Archer saw right through him.

"I'm sure Sim wouldn't have minded you sitting in the wheelchair."

Trip knew it had been foolish to put his full weight on his legs but he had had the feeling that he owed Sim that much. He looked at the captain, his mind still troubled. There was another thing that had bothered him over the last two days.

"Cap'n?"

"Hm?"

"I have to ask you somethin'."

"What is it, Trip?"

Trip hesitated for a moment. "I had a discussion with Sim about clonin' and what Starfleet and the people on Earth think about it. He said lettin' him die would be the only way to solve the problems he would cause simply by existin'."

Archer looked at him with a suspicious expression. "Do you want to ask me whether we let Sim die on purpose to avoid the problems his existence would create?"

Trip slowly shrugged, not daring to look into his friend's eyes.

"Do you really believe that, Trip?" Archer sighed and perched himself on the edge of Trip's bunk. "I guess I've lost a lot of the faith you used to have in me, back before Sim." He shifted uncomfortably, but leveled a steady gaze at Trip. "I'm fighting for the safety of Earth. I have to take to desperate measures to do so, even though I'm not proud of it. You know that, Trip. But I can only hope you also know that I would never sacrifice a life just to avoid problems. I would have done everything to save Sim's life, and to hell with Starfleet. I don't care what they say about cloning. I would've been glad to have Sim on board. Please believe me. Besides, Phlox would have never allowed me to throw Sim's life away. Not like that."

Trip nodded slowly, thinking about the captain's words. "Yeah, I believe you." He chewed on his lower lip. "It was a great speech," he said then. "I'm sure Sim would have liked it."

"I meant every word of it." Archer pulled Trip into a gentle hug. "We all miss him, Trip. We were blessed to have him aboard. But we have to look forward. He would want us to."

* * *

 

It was only half an hour later that the door bell chimed and Malcolm entered the room. "I've got something for you." He showed Trip a hypospray. "This is from Phlox to give you a good night's sleep, and this," he raised his other hand in which he held a bottle of bourbon whiskey, "is from the captain in case the analgesic doesn't work."

"I think I can use both. Is Phlox very angry with me?"

"No, I think he understood, completely. He's mourning for Sim as well." Malcolm pressed the hypospray with the analgesic against Trip's neck and released its contents. "If you want to get more comfortable I'll help you with your uniform."

"Thanks. Just let me wait for the painkiller to take effect." Trip watched Malcolm take two glasses out of the cupboard and pour a considerable amount of bourbon into them. Noticing that the pain in his legs had relented, he slid off the sleeves of his uniform and left it to Malcolm to carefully pull the fabric off his legs.

"They look much better than the last time I saw them," Malcolm stated.

Trip cast a glance at his legs. They were healing, but far too slowly for his tastes.

Malcolm knew perfectly well what he was thinking. "You have to be patient," he advised. "They were in very bad shape. Just a few days more and you'll be able to walk again."

"I hope so. What about your shoulder, Malcolm?" Trip asked when Malcolm offered him a glass.

"As good as new."

"The cap'n told me about the osmotic eel."

Malcolm grimaced, put a chair beside Trip's bunk and sat down. "Actually, it wasn't that bad."

"You think so? I'm really glad Phlox kept me sedated during the treatment."

"I guess he knew better than letting you be awake through it," Malcolm said with a teasing glance.

"Hey, are you sayin' that you've got more courage than I do?"

"It's not me who makes such a fuss over a simple eel."

"Yeah, right!" Trip gave Malcolm a mock glare. "I think Sim was right. I'm sure you go to sickbay every day to pet your little friend."

Malcolm laughed. "I wouldn't go that far. But I'm not afraid of an osmotic eel. Nothing can be as bad as drowning."

"You have a point there." Trip looked at Malcolm. "How do you feel about it? Are you havin' nightmares?"

"Actually, I dream about it from time to time, yes. But I can't say they are nightmares. It's a very strange feeling. I know that I'm under water, but I'm not afraid. I see Sim coming down to rescue me and I know he will succeed and there's nothing to be afraid of. It's weird, but in fact, I'm not afraid of the water as long as I'm dreaming. Unfortunately this feeling changes when I'm awake."

"It's not so easy to get over something like that, I think."

"Hm, suppose you're right. And I have to say, my needs for near-death experiences are satisfied for the time being." Malcolm allowed himself a smile, then he looked at Trip, considering. "I saw my father down there."

"Your father?"

"Yeah, I was hallucinating. He told me to simply let go and surrender. But then my great-uncle came and told me to hang on. That my friends would come to rescue me."

Trip smiled, taking a sip from the bourbon. "I have to say I like your great-uncle's attitude better."

Malcolm stared into the golden fluid. "He was right. My great-uncle, I mean. My friends did come to rescue me. At some cost to themselves."

"Don't feel guilty about it, Malcolm."

"Sim sacrificed his life for us."

"I know. And he told me not to mourn too long for him but to go on. We have to find the Xindi and prevent another attack on Earth. I think that is what Sim would want us to do." Trip sighed, the same feeling of guilt still nagging at the back of his mind. "Do you think we should have kept a closer watch on him, Malcolm?"

Malcolm looked at him, knowing exactly what Trip was talking about. "Perhaps. If we had known about his weak heart."

"Should we've been more suspicious that somethin' was wrong with him? I mean, I was worried about his exhaustion but I thought it was because his body wasn't used to the exertion."

"Yes, that was what I thought as well. Don't blame yourself, Trip. You had no way of knowing."

Trip slowly nodded, thinking. "Y'know, I was so glad that Sim had survived surgery. I thought I couldn't live with the knowledge that someone had to give his life to save mine. And now he did it again."

"And you have to live with it," Malcolm said with genuine sympathy in his voice.

"Yeah, but d'you know what's really strange? I think I actually _can_ live with it. Because I know that no one forced Sim to give up his life for someone he didn't even know, but that he did it, because, because…" Trip's voice faltered.

"Because he loved you, Trip," Malcolm said gently. "He loved you like a brother."

Trip smiled with tears in his eyes. "Yeah, he did."

The door bell chimed. Archer peered in and smiled gently at Trip. "I just wanted to check on you. Are you alright?"

"Come in, Cap'n, have a glass of bourbon with us."

"I'm still on duty."

"We won't tell anyone. I want to toast to Sim."

"That's the best reason to bend regulations." Archer perched himself on the side of Trip's bunk and accepted a glass from Malcolm. He looked down at the golden fluid, then raised the glass. "To a valuable crewmember."

Malcolm did the same. "To a good friend."

"To a brother," Trip chimed in.

The three officers locked eyes, smiled at each other and let their glasses clink. "To Sim," they said in unison.


End file.
